


Transference

by autumnmycat, spicy



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion, Rebuild of Evangelion | Evangelion: New Theatrical Edition
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Blood and Gore, Canonical Character Death, Drug Abuse, Eating Disorders, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 76,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnmycat/pseuds/autumnmycat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicy/pseuds/spicy
Summary: n. the projection onto another person (e.g., the therapist) of feelings, past associations, or experiences.Shinji Ikari had never really been the type to care about himself or his well-being, but with the death of his mom, the move to college, the cold shoulder from his dad—well, things are bad. It might even be worse that his new therapist is so kind to him, Shinji might even think that he's starting to develop a little crush. Or, maybe a big one.





	1. Confrontation

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this artwork: http://imgur.com/a/mEp5C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> n. a practice often done prior to an intervention where the patient is encouraged to attend to experiences that they have been avoiding.

Shinji opened Facebook to see that a girl had jumped off the parking garage roof.

Eyewitnesses said they heard a thump and just saw a body lying there. They tried to resuscitate her but just got blood on their hands. Her neck was broken, anyway.

The thing about news articles like this is that they never include very many details. He wanted to know about this girl, wanted to know about her life and what drove her to the roof. He wanted to know how long she had thought about doing it, how many plans she had come up with. He wanted to know if her parents knew she was sad, if she had any friends that cared, if she had been made fun of in high school, if she had tried to reach out before.

However, the article did give some details.

Still on the roof was her backpack, a laptop, a book, and cigarettes.

He imagined her sitting there, puffing white smoke, looking up at the sky. It was cloudy that day, so it probably wasn’t all that uplifting to only see gray clouds. Maybe, it had made her upset enough to stub out the cigarette, stand up, and let her body slam into concrete.

(It probably didn’t even hurt. Definitely the best way to go.)

Shinji closed the tab and stared at the unfinished essay that was due on Monday. The cursor on the document blinked back at him mockingly. A song with loud, thumping bass echoed from his neighbor’s room. His SDAT wasn’t strong enough to block it out, but it wasn’t worth complaining to an RA and making enemies. It was only the second month of school. Why make enemies when he hadn’t even made any friends?

His phone vibrated.

_Asuka: Message (1)_

Well, any new ones, anyway.

[ _Asuka: hey stupid you should come out with us tonight_ ]

[ _Shinji: Who’s us?_ ]

[ _Asuka: just some people_ ]

[ _Shinji: I can’t. I’ve got an essay to do._ ]

[ _Asuka: if its not due tonight, ur coming with us_ ]

He groaned, looking at the clock, at his computer, and then back down at the screen of his phone.

[ _Shinji: Whatever, fine. We better not go to a frat though._ ]

[ _Asuka: don’t be such a bitch_ ]

Shinji let his phone fall from his hand (it clattered on the desk), his palm smacked against his forehead (it didn’t even sting), and he sighed loudly (he couldn’t hear it over his SDAT). The last thing he wanted to do was go to a dumb party with people he didn’t know and get yelled at by Asuka all night.

But, it wasn’t like he had much of choice.

[ _Asuka: meet me outside of the student union at 11_ ]

[ _Asuka: be drunk_ ]

It did give him an excuse to get wasted, though.

 

* * *

 

Shinji would never consider himself to be “popular,” but at least in high school, he was often invited to parties. Probably because of Asuka.

Freshman year, Asuka, the girl who had lived next door to him his whole life, shoved a screwdriver in his hand. Shinji looked down at the yellow liquid with a certain amount of disdain. It was murky and pulpy and smelled like rubbing alcohol and citrus.

“What’s this?”

“What do you mean, ‘ _what’s this?_ ’ It’s a screwdriver, you idiot.”

“A screwdriver?”

“Yeah. Are you going to tell me you don’t know what that is?”

“Uhh…”

“It’s vodka and orange juice. Great for wimps like you because you can’t even taste the alcohol.”

He took another sniff of it, but it still smelled awful. How strong had she made it, anyway?

“Just drink it. You’ll like it,” she said, waving him off to go find her other friends.

Part of him thought that it was probably wrong that he was going to take his first drink at the tender age of fourteen, but the other part of him didn’t care about any sort of self-preservation. He didn’t care whether he lived or died, so he might as well drink in the meantime. Maybe his liver would give out at an early age or something.

Bringing the solo cup to his lips, he was surprised that it did, in fact, taste sweet. While it smelled suspect, apparently the sugar was enough to cover the poison. Asuka would make a drink like that, he mused.

Queue Shinji getting _wasted_ —tossing back drink after drink until he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. The juice burned his tongue, the alcohol burned his throat, but after a certain point, he stopped tasting anything at all. Asuka made him try some of the strawberry vodka someone had brought, and he took a large gulp straight from the bottle. Beer pong turned into everyone just chugging lite beer and throwing the cans out the window. It wasn’t their house, they didn’t care.

The party was fun—while he could still remember it.

He woke up on Asuka’s couch with a trash can of vomit next to him and a headache so bad, he thought he might have been punched in the face the night before. Maybe he had. It wasn’t as though he could remember.

“You got seriously fucked up,” Asuka smirked at him from over a bowl of cereal. Shinji couldn’t even look at food. “But, I don’t know. Drunk Shinji is almost better than regular Shinji.”

That, he didn’t doubt. Regular Shinji was kind of the worst.

 

* * *

 

Pouring cheap whiskey into a flask, Shinji couldn’t help but be reminded of that day—that party. It was similar in that he was a freshman (except now he was in college), and Asuka had basically dragged his ass out when he was going to stay behind and do homework. Maybe she was a good bad influence on him, after all.

He set the flask down, and the bottle went to his lips—burnt wood and fire flew down his throat. It burned. He coughed. His eyes watered. He groped around his desk for his water bottle and chugged.

The first shot was always the worst.

The second shot was less torturous but still tasted like someone made hell into a liquid.

The third shot was where warmth began to settle in, where the lights felt a tad hazy, where the body felt like less of a physical burden.

In a gray T-shirt, black jeans, and white Converse, flask in hand, Shinji decided he should probably meet up with Asuka before he got his head bitten off.

 

* * *

 

“Shinji! You’re late!”

He flinched. So much for not getting his head bit off.

“Sorry.”

Asuka huffed dramatically, pushing her hair over her shoulder. The long-sleeve, red crop top and high-waisted leather shorts she was wearing made her look ready to shove Shinji to the ground and step on him. Well, more so than usual.

“I guess, it’s fine. We’ll be the losers if we show up before 11:30, anyway.”

There was a girl standing next to her. She was cute—brown hair and pink lipstick. She wore a white dress with a denim jacket.

“Nice to meet you,” she smiled, “I’m Hikari.”

Shinji immediately felt awkward. 

“H-Hi, I’m Shinji.”

“We’re sisters at Epsilon Beta Alpha, and we have German together,” Asuka said.

Hikari grinned.

“Yeah, since Asuka’s so good at it, I decided I should be friends with her so she’d do my homework.”

“In your dreams.”

“I don’t know,” Shinji added, “Sometimes if you’re bad enough at something, she’ll just get frustrated and do it herself.”

Asuka shot him a look that was in between ‘Haha Very Funny’ and ‘watch it, boy.’ He didn’t particularly want to figure out which.

“Good to know. I’ll be sure to start sucking harder in class.”

“I wouldn’t say that when Toji’s around. He might get the wrong idea,” Asuka smirked.

“Oh, shut up. _You_ might give _Shinji_ the wrong idea.”

His face lit up bright red.

“Oh- _kay_ , enough small talk. Don’t we have a party to get to?” he said, pushing the two girls in the direction of the crosswalk.

The night was certainly off to a good start.

 

* * *

 

They went to a frat party. Of course.

The hooting and hollering could be heard from outside the house. Shinji couldn’t imagine what it would sound like on the inside. Well, he could. It wasn’t that hard to figure out.

He thanked God that Asuka and Hikari knew what they were doing because he hadn’t anticipated that there was going to be a haphazard _guest list_ and that his nervousness was going to stick out like a sore thumb. It was like everyone could tell he had no idea what Greek Life etiquette was, or maybe he was just getting himself worked up all over nothing. He could never tell.

It was almost uncanny the way Asuka shoved a red solo cup in his hand. He had to stare at her for a moment longer to make sure that the events from four years ago weren’t just repeating themselves.

“What are you looking at?” she asked. The small smile she flashed was an indicator that she wasn’t trying to be mean. “Come on. You know the rules.”

Shinji looked down at the red liquid with a certain amount of disdain. It smelled like someone had dumped an entire liquor store in his cup.

“How could I forget?” He thought his exaggerated eye roll was a nice touch.

“Cheers.”

Never had the _clink_ of plastic cups been so great.

Miss Asuka Langley Soryu thought it was best if every party started off with Mr. Shinji Ikari and herself chugging a glass of whatever was available. It was good luck. They had been doing it since Sophomore year (not that it meant that every party had gone well, but—you know, it was their thing).

These frat boys’ drink of choice: jungle juice. It was good because he couldn’t taste the alcohol, but it was bad because he couldn’t taste the alcohol. He knew he should take it easy because jungle juice could be some scary stuff, but Shinji had also already decided he was going to get smashed, so he didn’t particularly care.

They both finished their cups (Shinji coughed, Asuka did not) and met eyes.

“I’m going to go say hi to some friends.”

“Right.”

And, she disappeared into the throngs of people.

(She always disappeared like smoke. He could never keep her to himself for very long. The idea made him nervous.)

It was easy for him to get nervous, especially in a place like this. There were people—people everywhere, and they made the house smell like cigarettes, sweat, and beer. All the faces blurred together, and everywhere he turned, there were just _more people_. The air was thick. The music was too loud. The strobe light in the other room clashed with the steady light of the kitchen.

His head hurt. He needed to get out.

But, before he could move towards the back door, he heard someone call his name.

“Hey, Ikari!”

Who could he possibly know at a party like this?

Shinji turned to see glasses and a wide grin. It took him a second for his addled brain to register just who he was talking to, but then it clicked.

“Oh, hey, Kensuke.”

“What’s up? I haven’t seen you since orientation.”

He walked with a drunken swagger, one that indicated that he had probably been drinking for many, many hours. His lopsided smile was another indication. Shinji knew he shouldn’t be so quick to judge, especially with the flask of whiskey in his hand, but there was something about people feeling better than him that always made him a bit agitated. But, that wasn’t fair to Kensuke. Just have to drink more, he mused.

He took a swig of his flask.

“Oh, nothing. School.”

“That’s fair. Have you decided on a major?” 

“No.”

“Joined any clubs?” 

“No. None of them interest me.”

Kensuke patted Shinji on the shoulder, but his inebriation caused him to be a little heavy handed. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll find you something. There’s hundreds of clubs on campus, and there’s gotta be one that’s up your alley.”

“Thanks, Kensuke. I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. 

If he hadn’t been drunk, maybe he would have noticed the edge to his words. But, he didn’t, and their short-lived interaction washed away with the sound of loud music and yelling. Everything seemed to collect as white noise in the back of his brain.

(He needed to get out.)

 

* * *

 

Yellow light bled through the kitchen window and into the backyard. Shinji had managed to find the back door and escaped outside. It was packed there, too, but at least there was fresh air.

Sitting on the back porch, flask in hand, Shinji tried his best to not focus on (how everyone seemed to be having fun, and he just _wasn’t_ ). It was always like this, it had always been like this. Asuka Langley Soryu, the social butterfly, thrived amongst people while Shinji Ikari, the loner, became lost in the crowd. He already felt like a wallflower, but social events shoved in his face the fact that he was not good at living. 

He was still thinking too hard. Not drunk enough. He took a drink from his flask. 

(He knew that, in the end, drinking didn’t help. It was only a method of running away from reality. But, what’s wrong with running away from reality if it sucks?) 

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop thinking. He needed to stop thinking, he needed to get a grip and learn how to enjoy things like parties, and _stop thinking—_

“Yo.”

Shinji looked up to see a guy with a beer can in one hand and Hikari’s shoulder in the other.

“Uh…”

“I’m Toji, what’s up?”

Toji looked like he was already drunk. To be fair, probably everyone was drunk. His eyes were hazy, and his cheeks were flushed. Hikari looked a bit more sober, but not by much.

“I’m Shinji. Nice to meet you.” He took a sip of his flask to fill the awkward silence.

This was already awful. Conversations were still grating on his nerves. Still not drunk enough, yet. Need to get drunker, need to get drunker.

“Likewise. Hikari said I should introduce myself since you’re friends and all.”

Friends? Hardly. They had just met tonight. To be fair, Hikari looked a bit sheepish herself, like the whole thing had accidently been blown out of proportion.

“Uh-huh. Asuka introduced us.”

The whiskey still burned his throat.

“Speaking of Asuka, where’d she go? You seem kinda lonely sittin’ here by yourself.” Toji’s words were slurring. The zipper of his track jacket was half unzipped, and Shinji could see the t-shirt underneath.

“I-I’m not lonely—” he sighed, “—I just don’t like being in places with a lot of people.”

“A party ain’t your scene, then, huh?”

“Not really.” He just liked drinking. Or, being drunk. Both?

“Different strokes for different folks, they always say. Anyway, since you don’t seem to mind chilling by yerself, I’ll leave you be.” As he was walking away, he added, “If I see Asuka, I’ll send ‘er your way.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Left alone to his own devices, Shinji looked up to the cloudy sky and nursed his flask until it was empty.

 

* * *

 

At some point in the night, things got a little hazy.

He remembered playing a few rounds of beer pong (he lost), falling down (he’s got the carpet burn to prove it), and throwing up in the road (he was pretty sure Asuka yelled something about him being stupid).

He didn’t remember sobbing on her shoulder and telling her that he wished he was dead. He didn’t remember begging for Asuka not to leave him alone. He didn’t remember getting back to his dorm.

 

* * *

 

Shinji always escaped from his classes and exhausting social interactions by fast-walking back to his dorm, pretending he was in a rush. His dorm was a poor substitute for the homeliness he used to feel in at his parents’ house. The white, concrete brick walls felt more like a sterile prison than a place of residence. Apparently, this was where they used to put students under custody. At least that’s what Kensuke said. Maybe he wasn’t actually lucky for getting a single.

Staring at the blank ceiling made his eyes sore, but he felt completely unmotivated to move his body. He felt his mind roll back, swallowed up the anxiety of the next test, the next party, all the eyes glaring at Asuka.

Asuka dancing, moving her body like that, showing off, centerpiece, thirsty eyes, “Don’t look like that Shinji! Come…Have another…” Her top was cut way too small. It’s not for him. It’s not his Asuka. Just another slut.

He was waiting for the day she’d disappear like smoke. Just like she always did. Just like everyone always did. 

“Unfamiliar ceiling.”

(I guess I’m talking to myself again. I guess I’m going crazy. That everything I did before means nothing. I’ll just go crazy, start hearing things, saying things to myself, and end up brain-dead on lithium or whatever and forget everything. But, it wouldn’t matter because I wouldn’t even know it’s happening. It’s like death without the pain and disappointment of others.)

(Shinji didn’t really want to die, he just wanted to stop living.)

He just didn’t want to exist, to have ever existed. He lived his life quietly, got average grades in school, stayed relatively out of trouble.

“Mom.”

Shinji felt his face puff up, the blood rising to his face, and his vision becoming mudded. But, his tears just weighed down and wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t get that relief, the feeling out of his body. He wondered if this was what his mom felt like when she was undergoing chemo. She looked like she was in so much pain—her smiles and tone always seemed so sad in those last few weeks. He sobbed softly. He felt like such a pussy, thinking to himself: Why does he deserve this? What has he ever done to deserve this? His forehead started to throb like his brains were going to burst out of his head. Maybe they’d burst out and dress the white walls red. The soft flesh of his mind was sliding down the floor. His eyes shut in peace.

Like the fetal pig in 11th grade. Asuka was next to him, poking him, teasing him for getting nauseous.

“You’re such a baby, it’s already dead! See?” She poked her scalpel in its eye.

Shinji audibly winced. She sighed.

Her tone softened. “It’s okay. I’ll help you. You don’t have to touch it if you don’t want too. God, you’re so hopeless.”

The scalpel broke through the skull so quickly, like his spoon crushing a piece of cereal.

 

* * *

 

His mother’s smile, her hand on his shoulder. 

“You have to eat breakfast, or you’ll get sick, and your father will have to take you home early from work again.”

The wheezing through his Mom's throat whenever she opened her mouth was unbearable.  
Like nails on a chalkboard.  
The home wasn’t an escape but a confrontation with the harsh realities of his mother deteriorating before his eyes.  
He remembered her face as she rinsed out the dishes.  
She looked skeletal. Her skin was paper-thin. Like you could just peel it off.

Like how Asuka was able to so easily slice away the skin from the fetal pig. 

 

* * *

 

Her hands weren’t graceful. She always moved with intention. She was so determined. She was better than he was. She could grow up and be anything she wanted to be. The cracking of the skull caused a chill to shake down Shinji’s spine. Some liquid drained from the lesion.

Asuka dropped her scalpel. “Jesus Christ! Ugh!” She rubbed her goggles, “God damn, I think some got on my face. Oh, my God. Oh my god.”

She rushed out of the room, some male classmates snickered. Shinji looked down at the pig. He felt like he was doing something filthy. He tried to hide the shaking of his hands as he picked up the blade, dropping it twice but without creating suspicion. He actually was just making up for his classmates’ sudden evacuation. He felt awful. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he rinsed the blade off in the sink next to the dissection plate. 

(Are people like Gods to animals?)

But, he started to pick at the brain with his blade. So soft, like butter. 

(Do we really have the right?)

Something so delicate, like this, this grayish meat, holds every memory, every feeling, every experience which would ultimately express itself through thoughts and body, morph itself into the existence known as Shinji Ikari.

 

* * *

 

He was suddenly awoken by an intense throb in his chest. He croaked and almost gagged on his own vomit in the boy’s bathroom the next moment after. Without hesitation, he decided that he was too sick to go to class today. He thought to himself that it was only October, that he had plenty of excused absences. His grades were okay, right? He couldn’t remember what he got on his last test. Whatever.

After hanging his head over the toilet for a few minutes (it felt like hours), he finally picked the weight of his body up and lumbered back into his dorm. The picturesque morning, the light peeking through plastic blinds and just barely illuminating his room. The birds were already chirping like the thirstiest whores. (Do birds hear the singing, like, “Fuck me, fuck me!”? That’s what he thought he saw on the Discovery Channel.)

His alarm went off. Only 8:20? He bet he slept maybe three, no more like two, hours last night. Or, did he actually sleep at all? Maybe he just drifted out of consciousness in his own sulking. If he really wanted to, he could just pull himself together and go to his first class. Dr. Katsuragi was nice. But, he looked awful. His breath probably smelled revolting. 

(I don’t wanna go. I just don’t wanna go. Is that so bad? I’m hungover. It’s just like in the movies. College kids skip class when they’re hungover.)

His phone beeped again. Wait, no, it actually wasn’t the alarm.

_Asuka: Message (13)_

Thirteen messages? It was only eight in the morning. She wasn’t usually bothering him this early. A twitching thumb unlocked his phone. 

(His heart felt heavy in his chest.)

Most of the messages were from the night before.

[ _Asuka: shniji did you get back_ ]

[ _Asuka: fuck u better text me when u get back u fukcing asshole_ ]

[ _Asuka: SHINJI ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE_ ] 

[ _Asuka: ignoring ur grildriend is a shit move_ ]

[ _Asuka: fine i don’t care_ ]

[ _Asuka: shit i don’t mean that_ ]

[ _Asuka: you just sounded so sad and it sucks_ ]

[ _Asuka: i don’t like when you cry like thaf_ ]

[ _Asuka: i know u like dirnking but sometimes it scares me_ ]

[ _Asuka: fuck now im rambling, probably shouldn’t have feelings over text lol_ ]

[ _Asuka: but i mean it shinji text me when you get these okay?_ ]

[ _Asuka: night_ ]

Just one from this morning.

[ _Asuka: Are you okay?_ ]

 

* * *

 

Oh, right. Sometime that night, like what happens when he gets that fucked up, he started to get all TMI and embarrass himself. That's when someone would grab his shoulder, “Are you okay, buddy?”

Some good Samaritan shifted from party-mode to mommy-mode, taking the drink from Shinji's hand and trying to sound really concerned. 

“Hey, I think you had enough. How many did you have?”

Oh, it was Hikari. She was pulling Shinji's hand and leading him towards the couch, where he tripped and collided with the cushions. 

Toji walked over, “Hey, you don't look so good, man. You should slow down.” He turned to Hikari. “Did you text Asuka?”

Hikari looked up at her phone. “I did, but Mari is looking for her now.” Hikari ran out of the room. Toji sat down next to Shinji at the most inconvenient moment—when his mind was suddenly bombarded with the most upsetting, disgusting thoughts.

(I’m going to die. I drank too much. I wanna die. I'm going to choke on my own vomit, and fucking die at a party. As a freshman. Just a fucking idiot who couldn't tell what was too much. Asuka's gonna find you, and she'll cry and cry and—I wanna die. I miss my mom. I wanna see her. I wanna meet her. I miss her so much. If she wasn't gone, oh God, if she was here. I can't do it. I wanna die.)

Shinji's eye watered, he bit his cheek to hold back, but it was useless. He was crying and looking like a pussy in front of an upper-classmen. What a way to meet. Now he can't ever face them again. He has to stay in his dorm for the rest of his college career, so he won't have to hear everyone laughing at him. Pathetic.

“Whoa, hey, Shinji, what’s wrong—” 

His words came out more like a heavy sob, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Toji looked back at him with an expression that could be best described as horrified confusion.

“Hey, what’s with all this ‘sorry’ business? You ain’t done nothin’ to me.”

Wiping away his tears didn’t help. They just kept coming. He was so gross, so disgusting.

“I-I just hate that I’m like this, that I can’t even go to a fucking party without making a fool of myself—I’m useless and cowardly, and I force everyone to listen to my bullshit, and—”

“Okay, okay, enough with that kind of talk. I only met ya just an hour or two ago, and I think you’re a good kid, Ikari. Ya don’t need to be sayin’ shit like that.”

He wished he could stop crying, but the tears seemed to be coming out without his consent, just pouring down his cheeks and falling into his lap. He wanted to stop, but he was only making it worse, only proving how pitiful he truly was.

Hikari pushed other party-goers out of the way, some of whom had turned to look at the scene of Toji ineffectively trying to counsel Shinji. Hikari lead Asuka, holding each other's hands, towards Shinji. Mari followed behind them, “Hey, get out of the way!” The party-goers hid their gazes and started whispering to each other when the sorority sisters entered the scene. 

( _Is he okay?_ )  
( _What happened?_ )  
( _Looks like someone had too much fun, haha!_ )  
( _Hey, shh, don’t stare._ )

A few left the room, deciding it's nothing they really want to get caught up in. Maybe the campus police would come if it was a real OD. No one wants to hang around if that's the next scene.

Oh, and now Asuka’s shaking Shinji’s shoulder. Shinji just holds his head in his lap, tapping his foot erratically. He’s being peeled out of his catatonia by his angry, (responsible-adult) girlfriend, and now Asuka’s shoulder's getting wet. Disgusting. Oh, god. There’s the bucket. And...There’s the punchline! 

Shinji spit the rest of his lunch into the trashcan, staring at the brown-red carpet. The choice of brown-red to hide stains and save the university some cleaning bills. But if you looked closely, you could see dirt and smell liquor spilled from last year's 21st birthday party and the musky soles of a star tennis player who just arrived from practice and decided to slip into something more comfortable.

For some reason, Shinji can’t hear the music anymore. Is he standing up or lying down? Asuka looks really upset, he mouths some apology, but he doesn't think anything actually came out.

 

* * *

 

[ _Shinji: Sorry about last night. I have no idea what came over me._ ]

That was a flat out lie, but what could he say to that? _“Are you okay?”_ Obviously not. He drank until he puked after crying about wanting to die. None of those things fall under the category of “okay.” But, he already felt so ridiculous, so guilty, that he couldn’t possibly start unloading every negative thought that ran through his head.

[ _Asuka: uhh...you didn’t answer my question tho, like are you okay or did something happen?_ ]

[ _Asuka: are you not telling me something?_ ] 

He wanted to throw his phone across the room and pretend like last night never happened. 

[ _Shinji: No, no, I’m fine. Trust me, okay? I just drank too much._ ]

[ _Asuka: are you sure?_ ]

[ _Shinji: Just drop it, okay?_ ]

[ _Asuka: whatever, let me know when you’re done being an idiot_ ]

The groan that escaped from Shinji’s mouth was nothing short of inhuman. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, now his girlfriend is pissed at him. What did he do in another life to deserve all this?

Shinji didn’t know. The only thing he did know was that his head was killing him. He could actually use a good cup of coffee, or maybe he should just kill himself.

 

* * *

 

It took a good few hours for Shinji to muster the physical and mental strength to leave the confines of his dorm room.

(As much as he hated being around people, the cramped quarters of a single with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him could be a bit maddening. He would risk some interaction just so he didn’t go completely crazy.)

But, that didn’t mean he had to like the glaring sun that made his eyes ache or the feeling of his tired body complaining about movement. The other thing about drinking was that he tended to loathe reality more when he felt like shit, and alcohol managed to make him feel like shit. He cursed his mortal existence all the way to the closest campus coffee shop.

“Mom.” 

Back when everything was alright, they liked to get coffee together as a family and enjoy each other’s company. The smell of roasted beans had been carved so deep into his memories that just being in a coffee shop reminded him of those times.

His mother would always get a latte. His father liked his coffee black. Shinji would get hot chocolate because he didn’t really care for the flavor. It was too bitter. It tasted like emptiness.

But, those times seemed to disappear very quickly.

They had to stop brewing coffee at home, too, because the smell made her throw up.

 

* * *

 

“Next in line, please.”

Someone from behind him grabbed his shoulder and grumbled, “Hey, she’s talking to you.” 

Shinji jolted out of his thoughts and rushed to the register. 

(Great, another way to embarrass myself.) 

He ordered his coffee sheepishly. He was too nervous and forgot to ask for cream, so he got stuck with a cup of hot bean juice. He burned his mouth trying to taste it. He hated black coffee. 

The type of hangover he had was the brain fuzz kind, the kind that made his head feel like it was stuffed with cotton balls. It made it difficult for him to stay on one train of thought, and the smell of coffee was making it worse.

(He really didn’t want to think about his mom right now. Not now of all times. Not in public where he would be stared at if he started crying again. The stinging behind his eyes made his chest tight. Why did he have to be such a baby? Getting all misty eyed just because little Shinji missed his mommy—) 

“Shinji?” 

The sound of his name cleared the fog for a second. He turned around.

Oh no.

“Hikari?”

Oh, shit.

Sitting at a table by the door was none other than Hikari herself. She looked to be in considerably better condition than Shinji did (he had just brushed his teeth and thrown on a hoodie and some jeans, but Hikari’s makeup was done, and her hair was in pigtails).

For a second, they stared at each other, both frozen in space. Shinji’s mind told his legs to move, to run, to get out of there, but they weren’t listening to him. 

Unfortunately, she made the first move.

“How are you doing today?” Hikari asked cautiously, setting down her book.

“I’m fine, I just—” 

“Can you sit with me for a second?”

“I—I, um, really should get—I’ve got a lot o-of homework, and I—”

Almost like she already knew anything coming out of his mouth right then would be complete bullshit, she smiled kindly. “It’s alright. I won’t be too long. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

Shinji found that it was hard to swallow, like his tongue had swollen and engulfed his throat. He couldn’t even get himself to open his mouth. Before he knew it, his body was moving of its accord, pulling out the chair across from Hikari and sitting at the table. 

(He couldn’t ignore the stench of his black coffee.) 

“I’m sorry for ambushing you. I know we don’t know each other very well,” she began, grabbing her cup of tea with both hands. “But, Asuka’s worried about you.”

Shinji looked anywhere but at Hikari.

“I don’t know, she seems pissed off to me,” he said.

“Well, you know Asuka. She likes to pretend she’s angry to avoid looking overly involved.”

“Point taken.” He took a sip of his disgusting drink just so he could avoid talking. His tongue was burned enough that he almost couldn’t taste how bitter it was.

“I mean it. I think some of the things you said last night upset her.”

Shinji didn’t say anything.

“Do you always drink that much when you go out?”

“Not always.”

“It’s not healthy to do that all the time.”

“I don’t care.”

Hikari frowned, eyebrows pulling closer together. Her thumbnail traced the lip of the mug in her hands.

“Hey, Shinji, are you—doing alright?”

Having those words directed at him made his heart do a weird flop. It was like all of his insides lurched and gave him a sense of dread that he hadn’t felt in a long time. For a second, he wondered if he was going to throw up right there on the coffee shop floor. He made the mistake of meeting Hikari’s gaze. She looked...sad.

Shinji’s first instinct was to deny everything ( _‘I'm all right. Geez, it’s not a big deal.’_ ), and his second was to just burst into tears, but neither of those options seemed fair to Hikari, who was honestly just trying to be a nice person. Instead, he settled for a heavy sigh, fingers rubbing at his forehead.

“I mean, I don’t know. No, I guess? I don’t know. I try not to think about it too much. Like, I’m sure it’s fine. I just like to drink because it shuts off my brain, and then, I don’t have to think about anything.” 

Admitting this, even though it wasn’t even the complete truth, made him feel disgusting. How many people did he have to burden with his useless existence? How many times did he have force people to listen to his problems—problems that were his fault, anyway? Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just snap out of it? Why couldn’t he just hide away in his dorm room and rot away with nobody bothering him ever again?

He felt himself shrink in his seat. He honestly had never hated himself more. 

“You know that’s not normal, right? Like, people don’t usually use alcohol like that.”

Right. She was trying to say that people didn’t drink alcohol to get fucked up? Then, why did everyone on campus drink so much? Was the difference that they were happy and he wasn’t? Why should that matter?

Shinji didn’t say anything.

“Are you doing it because you’re sad?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” 

He began to get up, but Hikari’s hand shot to catch his arm from across the table. She almost knocked over her cup of tea. 

“Shinji, I’m serious. I want to help. It hurts to see you suffer so much.”

He froze.

Suffer? Was he _suffering?_

The look of shock on his face must have tipped Hikari off. 

“Do you not see it? Shinji, you kept saying you wanted to die. It was scary.”

Doesn’t everyone, on some level, want to stop existing? It wasn’t like he was actively trying to die or anything. It was just that being alive was exhausting. Dealing with human existence, having to take care of himself—it was so exhausting. Shinji couldn’t possibly imagine that anyone found existing tolerable or even, God forbid, _pleasurable_. He was just so tired of being alive.

(I want to die.) 

He sat back down.

“Hikari…” He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to remove the wad of feelings rising from his chest. His body felt so incredibly heavy, as if his feelings could have an actual mass and take up breathing room in his ribs. 

Once his ass hit the seat, he knew that he was trapped again. What corner of the wall can he huddle in? 

“I don’t know what to say, I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Hikari’s somber, serious gaze made him feel so...pitied. A girl was looking at the lone, sad puppy in the window.  

 

* * *

 

Shinji pulled the string on the stuffed dog; its teary eyes exaggerated and its mug pulled in a downward expression.

It hummed mechanically, kind of like an old record player, before playing the familiar tune in tinny melodies, whose lyrics Shinji could replay in his head in a sweet tone: 

 _How much is that doggie in the window?_  
_The one with the waggly tail_  
_How much is that doggie in the window?  
_ _I do hope that doggie's for sale_

The plastic constellation over his head glowed dimmer after his mom shut the lights off for the night. She smiled at him through the creaking doorway and said something sweet and tender before turning away. He saw the shadow of her nightgown through the crack of light she left to soothe his fear of the dark. His father asked if Shinji was okay, and his mom reassured him. His mother said something he knew was kinky in a special, breathy voice and his father chuckled in reply. His parents’ bed springs squeaked. He thought to himself that his mother was just really exhausted, so she hit the bed with all her weight and then struggled to find a comfortable position for 10 minutes.

 

* * *

 

Hikari was picking up puppy-boy away from the front door, the street of screeching tires and careless automobile rushing, and putting him back in the playpen. Away from the hallway of goodnights’ and the forbidden doorway hiding squeaky mattresses and dirty jokes. Hikari was talking to him. 

“...and that’s why you gotta try to pay attention to your body _and_ mind. You’ve been neglecting both, haven’t you?”

Hikari was holding his hand.

“You have people who really care about you and want you to be okay. Asuka was really upset. We almost called the campus PD. Didn’t she tell you this? We all were looking out for you, we—Asuka, Mari, Toji, and I—sat by you the entire time you were out of it. Toji even offered to drive you back and bring you to the dorms.” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember.” 

“So, you did black out. That’s not okay, Shinji. All of us just want to make sure you're all right. We’re all just trying to watch out for you, but—Hey, hey. Just look at me. Shinji, we’re just really worried about you.”

Shinji was watching Hikari stir her drink; a means to distract her hands from her phone or any other nuance that could divide her attention while she was having a real heart-to-heart with a lower classman.

“Shinji…”

Was he sweating?

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Hikari squeezed her hand around his tighter. “Do you see anyone outside of campus? A therapist?”

“No.”

“You should try seeing someone. You could even try seeing someone here. We have a counseling department in the student union. They have psychologists and such, trained professionals, who will talk with you and help you for free. You gotta take advantage of the resources here. I can help you with that, too. I can show you where they are, if you like.”

His palms felt really clammy. He let go of her hand and slouched back in his seat and sighed. He took a sip of his drink and held his breath for a moment.

“Ah. Thank you, Hikari. Really. You don’t have to do anything.” Cue puppy-eyed smile. A little puppy wince.

Hikari’s smile seemed genuine, though.

 

* * *

 

Dr. Nagisa was taking a break between empty appointment slots by doing some really important Pinterest browsing (he loved those aesthetic posts that made no sense) when the ‘ping’ of a new e-mail from the corner of his desktop screen alerted him to a walk-in, who he would see after the walk-in had filled out the necessary paperwork for new clients of the NERV University Department of Counseling and Mental Health Services.

 


	2. Narcissism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> n. Self-love. Ideally, the libido directs its energies to objects ("object-libido"), including eventually one's love-object. However, the libido can also attach itself to the ego ("ego-libido")

Shinji actually may have needed Hikari’s lead up the stairs to the second floor of the Student Union. As he looked up at the door markers, looking for “Department....Counseling,” he remembered how large and alienating the campus was. He was still just a freshman. Freshmen are kind of like cuckoo chicks who had taken up an unfair amount of space in the nest and starved others by gorging on the worms of accommodation. A parasitic vertebrate.

Yeah, that’s Shinji Ikari.

Shinji knew that schools pull out all the luxuries to attract potential applicants, but the breadth of their advertised services was doubtful.

Anyway, eventually, he did actually find the Department of Counseling and Mental Health Services at NERV University, which was inconveniently located at the end of a sharp turn by the emergency exit sign, hiding the secrets of would-be school shooters and other undesirables. There were two other students looking bored, staring at their phones, one sitting by an ancient computer located across from the reception desk. He thought that they almost looked normal, so maybe he could just blend in. Or rather, he didn’t have to blend in because they must not actually be normal on the account of them going to the Department of Counseling and Mental Health Services at NERV University.

“Hello, do you need help?”

Shinji gave the receptionist his student ID, his reason for walk-in, “I just wanted to talk about some things,” and sat in front of the ancient computer when the previous student had gotten up and was lead to a private room. An artifact of the 90s, a page with just three links and a poorly rendered GIF of the school logo spinning. They might as well had put some grinning and jumping MSN messenger emojis to add to the overall aesthetic.

There was something about informed consent, which he just scrolled through and clicked “OK”, and two forms regarding his visit.

Symptoms:

He filled out the most obvious:

  * Grief
  * Depression
  * Sexual Impotence
  * Distractibility
  * Trouble focusing in class
  * Skipping classes
  * Not getting to class on time
  * Relationship Conflict
  * Family Conflict
  * Sleep Issues
  * Excessive Tiredness



Then disclosure:

Do you think about hurting yourself? (Sometimes)  
Do you think about killing yourself? (Sometimes)  
Have you ever made a plan about suicide? (Once or twice, but I never followed through with it)  
Are you an immediate danger to yourself or others? (N)

And, some other questions like that. It pained him to just hover his mouse over the options and feel as though they underwhelmed the intensity of his suicidal ideation. He felt like he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“Are you done?”

“Yup.”

“Thank you, Dr. Nagisa will see you in a few minutes.”

So then, after a few minutes of staring at the clock and ensuring Asuka that he was alright and just overreacted last night and had taken Hikari’s (yes, the one who lead all the student groups and knew more about this stuff than he did) advice about the counseling center. This way, he was demonstrating that he was a good boyfriend and went above and beyond to make his girlfriend happy. That should make up for the whole embarrassing situation yesterday night, right? I mean, what more can he do? Just give him a break, Asuka, come on.

One of the office doors opened, the one marked “Kaworu Nagisa”, which Shinji had been kind of eyeing but didn’t want to stare at in case he made eye-contact. Just as Dr. Nagisa came out and—

Shinji was instantly fixated on those haunting rubies of his.

 

* * *

 

“Shinji, could you be a dear and help bag the groceries?”

“Got it.”

Shinji spent most of his time helping his mom with daily chores, trying to compensate for the time he decided to waste (a year to be exact) before he “was ready” (in his mother’s terms) for college. His father was working longer hours, trying to avoid distractions and stay in his office at later hours grading papers and seeing advisee students off hours. Shinji was eager to contribute to the cause any way possible, but he still felt particularly useless: He never actually got that growth spurt that his mom reassured him would put him at “just about average adult-male height”, he still needed help from the laundromat lady when shoving the laundry bag in the car.

The coins chirped as they hit the floor.

“Can I help you with that?”

“No, no. It’s alright. Thanks.” Yui’s hands were still shaking.

A woman pulled her daughter closer to her side, a small voice said, “She looks sick.” An older voice said, “Honey, don’t stare.”

Shinji’s hands met Yui’s wallet on the tile before his mom could.

His mother smiled.

“Thank you, Shinji.”

Another cashier walked over to their lane and started filling the bag Shinji left half-full.

“It’s alright, I got it.” By the time Shinji started putting bags into the carriage, the cashier had already finished (they have practiced hands).

“Have a nice day, Mrs. Ikari.”

On the ride home, the excessive rays of light through the sunroof seemed to pierce through Yui’s skin.

Leaning on the side-window, Shinji looked at the car mirrors and caught his mother's gaze in the reflection.

There was something about those eyes that sent a chill down Shinji’s spine (you shouldn’t look at them because if you do, you can’t look away).

 

* * *

 

_It’s rude to stare._

A deep red. A three-dimensional red.

Have you ever looked at a picture of the human eye close up? It’s actually kind of like a geode, straight valleys up and down flooded by eye-mucous/goo/whatever medical term that Shinji couldn’t remember from 11th-grade biology. It’s unsettling to think such a terrarium lives within your face.

In Dr. Nagisa’s terrarium swam bioluminescent microbial life. When you dip into them, your physical gaze shifts the waters and little sparkles swarm the perimeter of your touch.

So, Shinji resided to going with the flow of the already unusual predicament. He’d keep looking at Dr. Nagisa’s eyes.

Silver eyelashes batting over that breath-taking gaze. It matched the wispy bangs which Dr. Nagisa brushed out of his face. But they always laid to frame his face perfectly.

“Hi, nice to meet you, Mr. Ikari.”

“Huh?”

Shinji was staring intensely at an albino person.

(Is that racist? But, Dr. Nagisa looked Japanese otherwise…)

Oh, that’s really embarrassing. Really embarrassing. He felt a nervous shiver.

“Oh, ha—hi. Ah, sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

Maybe Dr. Nagisa was naive to his own appearance or was too used to people looking at him like he was on the cover of a particularly avant-garde Vanity Fair photoshop or newly discovered species of fairy people on the cover of National Geographic (which was the photo that won the yearly award).

A hand was held out in front of Shinji. He hoped Dr. Nagisa wouldn’t notice his wrist shaking. Dr. Nagisa’s hands felt cold. His skin looked almost translucent, so pale, even paler up close.

He may have held on a little too long.

“Do you want anything to drink? Tea, coffee, water?”

Shinji caught a glimpse of his smile and recognized the danger, looking aside to avoid the eye contact of the older gentleman.

“Ye—No, no. It’s okay. Thanks anyway. I’m alright. Thank you for offering.”

He was soon sitting on a faux-leather-bound chair in the office he had peeked at while looking over Dr. Nagisa’s shoulder.

The doctor closed the door and picked up a purple clipboard sitting on the wooden desk behind him, sliding the pen out of the alligator clip holding the mess of papers together. Shinji scanned the room, his eyes dotting along the hoards of forms, books, and office supplies which littered the shelves behind Dr. Nagisa’s desk. But, the computer area and the accompanying picture of a fair woman was the most chaotic: post-it notes littered on the screen alongside a paper calendar running out of room to add agendas. On one side, Dr. Nagisa had printed out and taped on the wall a prototypical “HANG IN THERE” poster, with that dreary-eyed kitten hanging onto a tree limb (Is he for real?). On another side, Dr. Nagisa had hung an oil still life of a bouquet of flowers in an unflattering, cheap frame.

The soft light of a side-lamp was much more pleasant to the eye than the numbing bombardment of fluorescent lights throughout the school (including Shinji’s dorm, which is why he never uses them and instead has a few regular table lamps all over).

“So, what brought you in here today, Mr. Ikari?”

The lighting harshly contrasted with Nagisa’s skin against his snazzy pink button-up that Shinji’s eyes had wandered, after they had traced his body from his brown loafers, black socks, grey trousers, brown belt.  Green acetate eyeglasses. Some relatively plain clothes, but effortlessly cool way of posing and general aesthetic which would indicate that this person would look great in a potato sack. Cut rubies are beautiful because they are perfect, after all.

Dr. Nagisa’s body posture was physically opposed to Shinji’s by pure observation. Shinji found himself adjusting his hair through his fingers, restlessly trying to find a comfortable position. Shinji wondered if he was sick, becoming all strange like this in front of a professional. He was just nervous. His mouth felt dry. When Nagisa propped his ankle up against his knee, Shinji bit the inside of his cheek. He looked at the side, but that’s rude, so he looked up and accidently met eye-contact. A feline smile, genuine by the pursing of the lips and some squinting of the eyes. It’s supposed to be friendly, but it welled up some sticky feelings in Shinji’s chest.

Oh, Nagisa was waiting for a reply.

“Ah...hmm...my friend, Hikari, she said—she told me that I should come here, I guess. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Nagisa was still smiling at him, and Shinji squeezed one forearm with the other. He didn’t know where else to put them.

“Oh, I guess. Um, I just do, it’s—Sorry.”

“Hey, Mr. Ikari?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t forget to breathe, okay? You look like you’re really nervous. Just hold your breath and…”

Shinji tried to exhale as slowly as possible when Nagisa counted his fingers to three, as per his instructions.

“Thank you, I feel better. Sorry.”

He could still feel his heart beating out of his chest, however.

“Mr. Ikari, do you apologize for everything?”

“I guess.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing when you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I—ah, o-ok.”

Nagisa chuckled to himself. Shinji mirrored him nervously.

“Your body has a larger influence on your emotional state then you may expect. Your body language conveys a lot and that becomes imprinted on your awareness in the form of sensation. Are you afraid of meeting new people?”

“I...I don’t know. Maybe. Somewhat.”

“Is this your first time talking to someone professionally?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

The more Nagisa went on, his soothing monotone seemed to situate Shinji back into reality, gradually leading him out of his headspace of security.

“I’m glad you came today. You must have good friends, as they were concerned enough to confront you about conflicts they suspect you to be coping with.”

“I guess.”

“Hm…”

“I just have done some stupid things recently, and ended up scaring everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah, Hikari, Asuka...Oh, she’s my girlfriend.”

“Oh…?”

“Yeah.”

“She was worried about you?”

“Yeah, she texted me like, a dozen times, or something, last night.” Shinji faked humor.

But Nagisa seemed to be exceptionally good at reading him.

“Is it alright if I asked what happened last night?”

“Oh, no, no. It’s okay. It’s fine. Ah…”

Nagisa was looking at him intently, batting those long grey lashes between pauses, but he wasn’t taking notes. He was drinking up Shinji, he enjoyed him. Shinji had Nagisa’s complete attention. Shinji noticed he was tapping his foot, but Nagisa was probably pretending not to notice.

“You know, college stuff. We, Asuka and me, I mean. No, wait. Yeah. We went to a party.”

“Oh, that’s fun.” Shinji got the impression that his words were somehow impressive by that coy look of his.

“It was...fun, I guess. It was ok. I don’t really like parties.”

Nagisa nodded, his hair was strangely airy and fluffy. Shinji found himself thinking about how Nagisa’s hair would probably feel like petting a kitten’s tummy. He also noticed his own face was smiling.

“Is that so?”

“Oh, ah. Sorry.” (What the fuck is wrong with me.)

“Do you remember what I said, Mr. Ikari?” Nagisa smirked.

“Ah…Yeah. So—I mean, I forgot what we were talking about.”

“You were telling me about the party you went to last night, but you said it wasn’t as fun as you hoped it would have been, or it was out of your nature in the first place and you forced yourself to go anyway.”

“Exactly! I just wanted to make Asuka happy, but I ended up embarrassing myself and she was really pissed off about it. Apparently, I was acting like a pussy and making a fool of myself—Drinking so much I was crying!”

“You’re smiling, but it seems like the memory makes you cringe more than anything.”

“Well, yeah. It...It sucks, honestly. But it was so bad, apparently, that Hikari told me I should see you.”

“I see, just because of how you acted at the party?”

“No, no, not really. She—they said I’ve been acting really sad. She said I looked like I was suffering. I thought she was being a little dramatic, though.”

“So, why did you come here?”

“...”

Shinji felt his chest squeeze. When he sighed, Nagisa’s expression fell endearingly. Nagisa would cock his head slightly when Shinji was upset, as if he was trying to get as small as he was so they could meet each other down there and just…

“I just wanted to talk...Thanks.”

“I’m just worried about you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I don’t want to change the subject, so please stop me if you would like to continue, but I was particularly concerned about your safety based on the answers you gave in the intake survey.”

Shinji froze.

“Mr. Ikari. You responded that you have had thoughts of killing or hurting yourself. Do you feel that way?”

“...”

“You don’t have to talk about it in detail, but do you feel like you’re safe here?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I believe you.”

“Thanks.” Shinji felt like he could believe it, too, if Nagisa believed in him.

“You’re very brave and very kind, Shinji. You were afraid of speaking about the pain you’ve been feeling to an unfamiliar person, yet you came anyway. You also took your friends’ feelings sincerely and hoped to ease their minds. It sounds like your friends really care for you, and you care about them.”

“I feel like you’re the only person who _really_ cares about me.”

When he said that, Dr. Nagisa’s whole face softened. It was like he became a doe—eyes wide and bleary, mouth slightly open, pen hovering just above his notepad.

He looked so—cute.

Shinji shrank into his hoodie. He didn’t want him to know that he was blushing.

“Mr. Ikari, we’re ten past our time. Will you make an appointment to see me again sometime?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

The corners of Nagisa’s lips curled.

“I’m glad to have met you, thank you for taking time out of your schedule to come and speak with me.”

Nagisa held out his hand. Shinji wiped the sweat off his palms and Nagisa shook him firmly (though Shinji’s own grip felt weak).

 

* * *

 

Shinji felt more of a spring in his step when he jogged back to his dorm from the student union. It was more so to hasten the point where his head could hit the pillow and he could relieve his mental exhaustion. He still felt kind of nauseous from the night before, though his tummy growled on empty. Climbing up the single, his back hit the mattress, and he started his mental (un)health upkeep. Staring at the ceiling and sinking into the memory foam topper was his form of information processing and meditation. His bed in the dorm was—at least—more comfortable than the one he had at home. His chest felt lighter.

But why was he thinking about Nagisa? Shinji had never been handled so gingerly, it was a special kind of validation that—frankly—made him feel as though he was fooling Nagisa into granting him these feelings he was having.

There hasn’t really been a time where a stranger had had such an effect on him. Thinking back to the session brought those waves of fluttery feelings back to him. It was infectious. Just thinking about Nagisa’s eyes was also a trap. Shinji’s mind pulled back towards the sweet words that Nagisa would say, so eloquently, in that insanely smooth voice. Smooth, that’s it. There were dozens of synonyms Shinji struggled to pick through and assign the proper terminology in describing Dr. Nagisa. Sometimes while speaking, Dr. Nagisa shifted his glasses up his nose or moved his silver locks away from his face. One moment, Shinji remembered, Dr. Nagisa adjusted his collar, and he saw the underside of Dr. Nagisa’s jaw (which was angular but did not look overwhelmingly masculine against the rest of his features), wide and expressive eyes hanging underneath those oh so, so long lashes that would make any girl jealous. Then, he could see his some of his collar moving up and down below his Adam’s apple. Shinji remembered being fixated on seeing that movement, demonstrating that he was not, in fact, a ghost but a virile person breathing with blood coursing through the soft, blue veins which just peaked under his skin in certain lighting.

Dr. Nagisa always had this _look_ on his face, something inexplicable. His eyes just made Shinji feel like he had the wind knocked out of him if he were to really focus on them and think about it (like now). Angular nose, sharp jaw. Inviting eyes, which begged “come-hither.” His lips were just a tint rosier than the rest of his complexion as well, resting slightly open or grazing against his teeth. It wasn’t just one particular thing, Nagisa was…

Shinji cringed when the words “beautiful” and “gorgeous” crossed his mind. (What the fuck.) But, the more he tried to not think about how pleasing Nagisa was to his eyes, the harder it was to not think about pleasing Nagisa was to his eyes. He was pretty tall, maybe 6’ or so, but he was kind of lanky. Not awkwardly, but gracefully. Lithe? Yeah. But, he had these broad shoulders in this ambiguous—the best way Shinji could think about was,  

    

> Bishounen (n): Pretty in a masculine way

 

That’s what girls always want in a guy, right? Like, a metrosexual. A guy who is stylish, cool, but comfortable with his feminine side, who embodies that kind of Greek statue aesthetic.

(What would Nagisa look like naked?)

Shinji’s blood boiled up to his cheeks.

(What if he said those things really, really close to you and you could feel him breathing on your neck. Just saying those things, but really desperately, and you finally got to see that asshole lose his composure and blush really hard and act all like you did, then who would be embarrassed? No, Nagisa would be totally in his element. He’d probably just keep looking at you predatorily and keep saying things in that sultry, ambiguous tone which begged you to have to ask. Wow, that would be hot.)

Shinji’s phone pinged. “Oh my god, shut the fuck up, Asuka.”

He can’t even jerk off in peace.

_Shinji, just relax. Take a deep breath. Good boy._

Shinji pictured himself in this amazing predicament of meeting Nagisa’s ruby gems from above as Nagisa was looking at him—so amused at the fact that his cock was already painfully erect when he slipped his cool fingers beneath the elastic of his briefs. Nagisa planted eager kisses along the length of his cock and started stroking Shinji in rhythm with the rocking of his body against his grip.

Nagisa rolled the fluid dripping out of Shinji’s head around with his thumb and panted softly in response to Shinji’s desperate moaning.

_Shinji, I love how you sound. I want to hear more of you._

Nagisa pressed Shinji’s cock against his lower lip and struck his gaze straight through Shinji in such a way that Shinji couldn’t help but shiver when Nagisa went down and met his nose against Shinji’s hipbone. Nagisa somehow looked more lucid when Shinji could imagine his entire dick inside of his mouth.

Nagisa smiled with his eyes when Shinji let out his characteristically (and unfortunately) girly whimpers each time he bobbed his head in movement with Shinji’s fingers locked through his hair.

_Oh, Shinji, hm...I love how you taste. I want to hear more of you. Shinji. You sound so delighted when I touch you._

Nagisa pulled a long string of saliva and Shinji's own pre-cum as he popped his lips off him. White strands falling over his brow but not enough to hide his rouged cheeks. Shinji could feel his breath on his bare skin.

_Shh...It’s okay. Don’t worry about anything. I love your cock, Shinji. I love the faces you’re making. I’ll do anything you want._

Shinji ran his hands down against Nagisa’s smooth shoulders, feeling the muscles of his back as he moved against him.

_Ha, you’re so cute, Shinji. Keep looking at me. I want to see your face._

That’s because Nagisa really liked him, and he really enjoyed when Shinji acted shy and naive.

That way, Shinji didn’t have to feel shame, rather his expressions made Nagisa glad. That’s why Nagisa was giving him this amazing blowjob on this imaginary chair and talking about how much he wants to see him come.

He even would let Shinji move his hips up, and Shinji would get to see Nagisa’s sexy red eyes cross for a moment and tear up a bit.

Nagisa would respond by putting his hands around Shinji’s thighs and pulling him closer, only separating his lips from his cock to brush the hair out of his face, so he could look at Shinji and tell him he wants to make him happy and that he can come wherever he wants. Shinji uttered a naughty request in between his unrestrained moans.

Nagisa smirked, “Go ahead.”

Shinji involuntarily held his breath as his body stuttered, a restrained moan breaking as his come spilled over his hands and pooled around his belly button. Nagisa was catching his breath and smiling, satisfied as he let some of it drip off his eyeglass frames and around his lips. Nagisa’s face was painted with it. “Thank you, Shinji.” A thick glob fell off of Nagisa’s glasses as he pulled them off and loosely shook his hair into place.

“A lot came out.” He chuckled, like being covered in come was just another natural state.

“Don’t worry about it.” Nagisa’s face may just have looked somewhat prettier without his glasses on and when he was so beautifully defiled.

Shinji thought to himself that he wished he had the same lack of shame that Nagisa had.

Nagisa pressed his knee between Shinji’s leg and hoisted himself up to plant a tender kiss, which Shinji returned. He felt kind of empty when Nagisa’s lips slid off his own.

“That was really fun, Shinji. You’re such a sweet boy.”

He wiped the dried tears out of his eyes and slowed down his sobbing.

Shinji looked back up at his dorm’s blank ceiling as his vision cleared. His breath returned to normal after some moments of gross wheezing, basking in a long-forgotten afterglow. His chest had weight again.

“I’m so fucked up.”

 

* * *

 

Monday rolled around slower than Shinji thought possible.

(Something about having to do a five-page essay and having to push out thoughts of rubies and kittens made time move exceptionally slow.)

But, nevertheless, he somehow made it, and now he was trying not to fall asleep during his 9 AM. It wasn’t that Dr. Katsuragi was a bad teacher, in fact, she was one of the more engaging teachers he ever had, but he was just _so tired_. Even though he went to bed at a normal time, he tossed and turned all night. It would probably help if he had a little caffeine in his system, but he refused to get coffee after the last incident.

Shinji kept checking his phone during lecture under the fold out desk, watching time pass. Minutes seemed to tick by so slowly during lecture. He had to violently tap his foot in an effort to stay awake. It wasn’t working very well. He kept dozing off.

When the clock finally hit 9:55, he launched out of his seat. So close to freedom.

He had almost escaped out the door, but he wasn’t quite fast enough.

“Hey, Shinji, can I talk to you for a second?”

Dr. Katsuragi had a sweet way of talking, like she was always excited to be having a conversation with you. That’s how she lectured, too, like she was telling you this interesting thing she read in the paper today even though she was really lecturing about political science.

But, being directly addressed by a college professor in a class with eighty people was not good.

“Uh, sure.”

She leaned against the front table, rocking the heel of her boot against a ridge in the floor. She seemed picturesque, like she was actually posing in front of a motorcycle for a magazine cover instead of lounging in a lecture hall. She always wore short skirts and dresses with brightly colored blazers—it was her thing.

Basically, she was extremely attractive.

Dr. Katsuragi’s intense presence made Shinji aware that he looked like complete shit. Not only had he not brushed his hair (or washed it for that matter), but he had been wearing the same pair of jeans and switching between three hoodies since the beginning of the semester. Just being in Dr. Katsuragi’s line of sight made Shinji feel like the biggest fucking loser on the planet. This would be a perfect time to disappear.

When he came over, she smiled sweetly. He couldn’t help but think that she had a sort of motherly aura to her.

“Shinji, how are you doing?”

Not this again.

“Fine.”

“That’s good. I just wanted to talk to you about the last test.”

“Okay.”

“Your score was the lowest. By a lot. My tests aren’t hard. This is an entry level Poli Sci course, and I try to break down the material as much as I can (and if you don’t believe me, you can look at the reviews on RateMyProfessor).” She winked. “But, I was just wondering what was going on.”

Shinji felt like someone ripped the needle from a record. He knew he wasn’t doing well, but _dead last?_ In a political science class?

“Uh, I didn’t realize I was doing that bad.”

“You can still pass if you do well on the other tests, but considering this was the easiest out of all of them, I’m concerned that it may be difficult for you. I know college is different from high school, and even me getting involved like this is a bit much for a professor, but I refuse to believe that you’re not smart enough to pass with flying colors.”

He looked past her, gaze unfocused.

“Sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

The words sounded so hollow that Dr. Katsuragi seemed spooked.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

No one would have believed him, but it wasn’t like she was in a place to call him out. However, just looking at him (his hair fell limp and greasy in his face, his eyes had dark circles under them, his clothes were wrinkled and well worn, and his general demeanor suggested that of doom and gloom) was enough to tell that this boy had something going on.

“Alright. Well, if something comes up, my door is always open. My office is on the third floor of this building.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Now to get out of there as fast as he possibly could. And, he was supposed to meet up with Kensuke— _shit_.

Shinji pulled out his phone as he fast-walked out the door.

[ _Shinji: Hey I’m going to be a little late_ ]

[ _Kensuke: it’s fine. whats the holdup?_ ]

[ _Shinji: I scored so low on a test that my professor asked about my personal life_ ]

[ _K_ _ensuke: yikes_ ]

 

* * *

 

“So, you ended up blacking out?”

Shinji sighed. He had been sighing a lot lately.

“Yeah. It was a mess— _I_ was a mess.”

Kensuke scratched his head absentmindedly, trying his best to keep his attention on Shinji. The bustle of the lunch rush was pretty distracting.

“I didn’t even stick around for that long. I was pretty beat even before I got there.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you left because, otherwise, you would have had front row tickets to ‘Shinji Ikari: Human Disaster.’”

“Eh, try not to beat yourself up over it. It’s college, shit happens. Everyone gets fucking plastered at some point or another.”

“I don’t know. All I did was piss Asuka off.”

“Speaking of Asuka, I saw her with Toji today.”

“What?”

Shinji looked up from his turkey sandwich probably a little too quickly.

Kensuke was poking the prongs of his fork into a kernel of corn. It looked like that particular kernel bored him so much that he had to give it individual attention.

“Yeah, I don’t know if they had been hanging with Hikari or what, but they were just sitting there and talking.” He sighed. “I don’t know, I just thought it was weird.”

“Oh.”

Shinji set down his sandwich and looked out the window. The dining halls were dreadfully lit. They really should have put in more windows and less overhead fixtures.

“You said that you two haven’t been getting along so well.”

Something in Shinji’s stomach lurched.

“I mean, I guess. I think she’s still just upset about that stupid party.”

“It’s possible, but do you guys like—you know—”

“Yes, Kensuke.”

“Okay, just checking. ‘Cause you know she seems like the type to get pissed if you don’t put out—”

“Stop talking, Kensuke.”

“I’m _just saying._ If you’re not meeting her needs, she might be shopping around the market.”

“You’re disgusting. You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been dating Asuka for four years, and I think I know her better than you do.”

“Hey! No need to get defensive. You just said there were problems in that department. What am I supposed to think?”

Shinji felt his lifeforce draining as he slumped in his seat. Kensuke could pinpoint the exact moment his soul left his body.

“Everything is fine.”

Everything was not fine.

 

* * *

 

Freshman year of high school was a simpler time. Since Shinji only had cello practice to worry about, he had plenty of time to do homework. Even back then, he still had a problem finding the motivation to complete his homework, but there was also the matter of Asuka.

“Are you _still_ stuck on that problem? It’s so easy!”

“If it’s so easy, then you do it.” Shinji was laying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, scrolling through his phone. Most of his homework time was spent checking Facebook. That’s probably why his grades weren’t so hot.

“Fine. I will. If it’ll spare me from staring at that mopey expression of yours for minute or two, I’ll do anything.”

“Good to know.”

A silence fell over the room, the only sound being Asuka scribbling furiously on Shinji’s math homework and the whirl of the box fan in the corner. Shinji lost track of time as he fell into the pits of the internet.

However, Asuka managed to shock him back to reality.

“I think we should go out.”

Shinji looked up from his phone with his mouth gaped open.

“Huh?”

“Y’know. Date.”

“R-Really?”

Asuka wasn’t even looking up from the worksheet. If Shinji couldn’t hear what she was saying, he might have thought she was talking about the weather or which color was her favorite.

“Yeah, I mean, we always hang out together, anyway. It’s not like anything would be crazy different. And, then, it wouldn’t be weird when I randomly kissed you or whatever.”

Wait, did Asuka feel like that? Did she randomly want to kiss him? They had kissed before, but it was always super weird and ended in Asuka scrubbing her mouth out. But, maybe she did have feelings for him?

Weird. He would have never guessed.

“I don’t mind.”

That made Asuka look up. She looked kind of pissed.

“You ‘ _don’t mind_ ’? What kind of response is that?”

“I’m just saying, I’m not against it.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“Sure.”

“Oh my god, you really are an idiot.”

She shuffled over and picked up Shinji by his cheeks. He imagined his squished face looked like a fish.

“Answer with either ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ Do you want to date me?”

Did he really have a choice?

“Yes.”

When she let go of his face, his upper body toppled to the ground.

“Cool. We should totally make out sometime.”

 

* * *

 

Asuka wasn’t exactly sure how she got in this situation.

One minute, she and Mari were just fucking around, picking at each other like they always did, and the next minute, Mari had pushed her against the wall.

Mari’s big blue eyes stared down at her. Her gaze was harsh and intimidating, which was certainly a feat because Asuka was very rarely intimidated by anyone. But, with Mari’s hand on the wall just above Asuka’s head and her body so close to hers—well, you’d probably be a bit nervous, too.

“W-Would you get away from me?” Asuka growled somewhat unconvincingly. She shifted to the side in an attempt to dodge Mari’s piercing eyes, but she just mirrored the other girl, shifting the position of her head to compensate.

“What’s wrong, Princess?” Mari purred, her thumb tracing Asuka’s jaw line. “You seem flustered.”

Asuka huffed, turning away from Mari’s blue eyes.

“Shut up. You’re just a fucking lesbian.”

“And, you’re not into it?” Her smile seemed to be almost vindictive. “You can fool a lot of people, Princess, but not me.”

Her hands were graceful. They pushed back her red hair and tickled at her neck. Asuka hated it.

“Stop it,” she gasped. “I’m dating Shinji, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, Puppy Boy. He’s cute.”

There was a second where Asuka thought she might completely break in half, where her head would fall off her shoulders and smash into the floor. But, then, Mari pulled away.

“That’s fine. I understand. I want you two to be happy.”

Then, why did her chest throb like this? Why did she feel so empty? She didn’t feel happy at all. She felt sick and gross and like she might just die. She didn’t really want Mari to leave—she just said that to save her stupid pride.

As Mari walked away, Asuka couldn’t help but notice how the swing of her hips made her skirt sway.

(Oh no.)

Unfortunately for her, she’s got a date with Puppy Boy later.

 

* * *

 

“Geez! This place is a pigsty. How do you live like this, Ikari?”

Shinji clenched his jaw, willing himself to find the sense of calm he usually used when dealing with his lovely girlfriend.

“Sorry, I haven’t really felt like cleaning up.”

To be fair to Shinji, his room really wasn’t that messy. It was mostly strewn clothes and an unmade bed, maybe a few food wrappers here and there.

“In addition to being your girlfriend, do I have to be _your mom_ , too? God, you _really_ are hopeless.”

Okay, that one hit a little too close to home.

“Cut me some slack, Asuka.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she drawled, kicking a dirty t-shirt into the corner of the room. “So, are you just going to stand there or are we going to fuck?”

Shinji internally (and maybe a bit externally) cringed. He had never really gotten used to Asuka’s crass side, even after all these years.

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“God, Shinji. You make it sound like such a chore.” Somehow, her shirt was already on the floor. “Are my boobs not big enough for you?” she teased, pushing at the sides of her bra to make her chest look cartoonishly large. “Do you think Mari’s are bigger? Are you more into her boobs than mine?”

Shinji—currently so red that a tomato would be jealous—was at a loss for words.

“I-I—why would I know that?”

“Oh, come on. Everyone looks at Mari’s boobs. They’re huge!”

“I-I don’t!”

“Liar. Get over here.”

Asuka grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled the boy close enough that she could grab his lips with her own. She was the type that liked sloppy kisses (Shinji didn’t really care either way), and since she was Asuka, she often would just shove her tongue down Shinji’s throat, which was currently the case. Shinji held his breath and grabbed the flesh that Asuka moved his hands on. Her breasts were pushing down on his chest and restraining his voice.

(We get it, we get it, Asuka likes to run the show. Real shocker there.)

Though Shinji felt apathetic about Asuka’s sexual domineering, he still couldn’t help but think how pleasant she was to touch. Shinji always found her skin to be abnormally soft in a way that his wasn’t. He did enjoy resting a palm on the curve of her waist because it fit so perfectly (and if this were a corny young adult novel, Shinji would probably be thinking, ‘I knew we were made for each other,’ but that’s bullshit, and he knew it). She would move to compensate for his touch, either leaning into him or pulling away, depending on how much aggression she had pent up.

Turns out, that day, she was more bitchy than usual.

She smacked his hand away as Shinji tried to slip it down the small of his back. He had to consciously stop himself from groaning in frustration. Asuka broke their kiss, pulling away just enough so she could shoot him a condescending look.

“Oh, honey, no. I call the shots, remember?” she whispered in his ear with her personal lusty succubus impression. She bit the bottom of his lip.

Shinji wanted so badly to roll his eyes, but somehow, he stayed strong.

That was when she went to undo his belt.

He cried out in shock as Asuka slid her cold fingers down his briefs (although, you would think he’d get used to this sort of thing because, really, doesn’t this happen every time?) and felt a little tremor of nervousness at how intensely she tugged them down and gripped the base of his cock.

“What? You’re not even hard yet? Lame. Do I really have to do all the work?”

Shinji Cringe Count: two. His gaze drifted off to the side as Asuka kneeled to the ground, grasping his familiar cock in her hand. It certainly wasn’t unpleasant to look down and have a pretty woman stroking and pecking you in all of the practiced ways she’s developed for your body, but it was hard to feel turned on when he was constantly being berated with passive aggressive (and sometimes just plain aggressive) insults and such urgent, needy glances.

But, there was something exciting about looking down and seeing blue eyes peering back up at him, about seeing her lick up his length. Of course, it wasn’t as good as—

(Red eyes, piercing, intense, otherworldly—white hair brushing against him—a whisper of acceptance—)

A fluttering breath escaped his lips. It was probably wrong that he wasn’t engaged in this exact point of reality, but it felt good, and Asuka didn’t have to know. He was only a thought criminal, and he really couldn’t be persecuted for that.

(If he could think about her mouth as his mouth, that would be fine. It might make this situation a little less anxiety-inducing.)

Asuka brushed her hair across her shoulder and pushed his thighs down, “You’re so lucky that you have someone who will do this for you without you having to beg for it.” She pushed her cheek against the side of his cock and slide her lips up him. Shinji stuttered and let his head hang on his shoulders, eyes half closed. His mind kept wandering, but he didn’t care. He might as well feel good when he’s amusing Asuka.

(Do you think he’d thank him for letting him have his body? Shinji would like to think so. Shinji would like to have some worth. Shinji would like to feel like he deserves to feel good.)

“Uhh—”

Her mouth came off with a _pop!_

He felt really, really close just then.

“Nope, you’re not allowed to come yet.”

Shinji wasn’t sure how he was feeling, but it certainly wasn’t good.

Asuka climbed up onto the bed and began undoing her shorts. She slid her belt off and flung it to the floor with haste, shimming her denim down her legs. Shinji watched as she peeled off her panties and threw them over his shoulder.

“My turn,” she practically sang, a sadistic smile taking over her face.

It was Shinji’s turn to kneel now, and luckily, the height of the bed was perfect for eating out.

His fingers ran over the red hair between her legs. Asuka tugged at his hair and pressed her hips up to meet his lips resting against her bud. He could feel how damp she was on his chin. She couldn’t hide how much she was, despite protests, really enjoying toying with him when he was compromised like this. His face felt hot, as if he was feeling her breathing on him from this position, on his knees. He was always bewildered by how intense women smelled there, that they hid this primal musk that no perfumes or cosmetics could undo.

Maybe that’s why they did wear perfume in the first place. Maybe Asuka was trying to hide her shame by negging him. He wondered if everyone had a different scent and if it was possible to tell one from another. Or, if you could tell if someone else has been there.

Shinji plucked himself up from the vice grip of Asuka’s thighs to catch a breath.

“You’re going to drown me if you keep pressing my face down like that.”

“You don’t have the right to complain after I put your dirty dick in my mouth.”

“Yeah, who doesn’t love getting blue-balled?”

This time, Shinji couldn’t hold back the disconcerted sigh that he had been trying to suppress since she insulted his dorm’s state of disarray.

“Sometimes I wonder if you even like me,” he grumbled from in between her thighs.

“Oh, quit being a crybaby. You really are stupid, aren’t you?”

Shinji could not quite fathom that Asuka had not yet gotten the hint that her calling him names during sexy times was not A Good Time.

Whatever. He shut himself up by mouthing the rest of his unspoken words somewhere between her plump folds and zoned out of the moment.

It was always interesting to him that Asuka seemed so rude to him pretty much all the time, but the second his head was between her legs, whatever tough-guy persona she built up immediately fell by the wayside. He wasn’t even sure if it was him, or if Asuka just needed to get some head to stop being so goddamn mean. Shinji didn’t particularly care about the reason, but if it was enough to get her to stop calling him stupid, he’d eat her out all day.

But, Asuka still would bite her bottom lip firmly or pull her arm over her mouth to deny him the satisfaction of hearing her uncharacteristically gilly moans. Asuka couldn’t stop being Asuka for too long. That would probably rip a hole in the space-time-continuum.

She kicked his shoulder, for about the dozenth time.

“F-Fuck, stop it. I’m done. Let’s go to the main attraction.”

Whoop-dee-doo.

He climbed on the bed with her and just kind of laid down, like (okay, here’s my dick, do what you want, I don’t really care). He was too exhausted. Asuka seemed to be fine with that. Well, she would have been if—

“What?! You’re soft again?”

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

“Why don’t you yell it a bit louder so the entire campus can hear you?”

“I can’t believe this! What kind of man are you? You have all this—” Asuka grabbed her boobs, grabbed at her waist and hips, “—and you aren’t even the slightest bit turned on?!”

Shinji wished he could crawl into a hole and die.

“God, I can’t believe this. Why does this keep happening?”

Shinji wanted to say, (neither can I), but he knew to keep his mouth shut. In typical Asuka fashion, she was making a big show of clambering off the bed and grabbing the various articles of clothing that she had thrown around the room. Shinji thought this was a bit much, especially since if she really wanted to keep going, she could have just blown him again (and he could fantasize about a person who was not in that room), and it probably would have been fine. But, he had a feeling that this was probably more about hurt pride than anything. And, Asuka had a lot of pride to be hurt.

(Or, maybe she was cheating on him. Maybe that was it. Maybe this was all just an elaborate ruse to make it seem like everything was his fault, when really, she’s going around fucking other dudes—fucking Toji—and going out of her way to make him feel like shit.)

Shinji pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. If it was possible to do that angrily, well, Shinji managed.

Asuka was still making a show about how awful he was.

“God, we never even sleep together anymore, and you still can’t just be attracted to me. Christ, I can’t believe it.”

“C’mon, Asuka, you’re being ridiculous. Are you about to have your period or something?”

She snorted in boiling discontent. “Shut the fuck up, Shinji Ikari! Me? I’m ridiculous? What about you, huh?”

“What about me?”

“You act like such a white knight, ‘Oh, I have to do this to make Asuka happy!’ And, then you end up making everything about yourself. Like, if you don’t want to go out, don’t go out! I’d rather you stay in than throw up on me.”

Ouch. That hurt a bit too much.

“Well, how do you think I feel? You’re always going out to these random parties—all these frat houses—and I don’t know what you’re doing there!”

“Having actual fun, not that it’s any of _your_ business.”

Her tone made him angry. So angry. He wished he could walk over, put his hands around her neck, and choke her. He hated that she was always so smug, so fucking arrogant.

(Maybe, deep down, he actually hated her.)

All of the internalized anger hit him at once, and the words came out against his better judgment.

“I know you’re fucking Toji.”

He tried to sound as stern as possible to spite the tears welling up from him.

“What was that?”

Shinji couldn’t tell if she really hadn’t heard him or if she was just giving him a chance to shut his fucking mouth. But, he didn’t take the hint.

“I know you’re fucking Toji,” he said, louder this time.

“What?! What the hell did you just say to me?!”

He felt his blood run cold.

Even though Shinji and Asuka had basically known each other since the womb, Shinji had never seen her as angry as she was right then. She stomped over, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and practically lifted him off the ground. The only thing missing was steam coming from her ears.

“How dare you,” she hissed. Instead of yelling at him, her words were sharp and precise, exquisitely designed to cut right through his chest. “Hikari is one of my best friends, and if you think for one second I would betray her trust for an idiot like that, you are _dead wrong._ ”

(Oh no.)

“What kind of slut do you take me for, Shinji Ikari? Do you really trust me so little that you think I would go behind your back and fuck another guy? Do you even know me at all?”

She released her grip on his shirt. Shinji stumbled backward, eyes wide and jaw clenched.

“What, can I not _talk_ to other guys now? Am I your precious trophy girlfriend that you want to keep on your shelf to admire when you feel like shit? Is that how you think of me, Shinji?”

She was reading him like a book. Shinji could feel himself shaking. He wanted to look away from Asuka’s furious scowl, but he was frozen in place.

“Or, maybe _you’re_ projecting. Maybe you want to go fuck another dude, so you’re worried I’m gonna do it!”

Shinji had never experienced the sensation of words hitting him in the face like an actual slap, but Asuka was a woman of many talents.

“T-That’s—wha-what are you saying? That I’m _gay?_ ”

“Well, maybe if you could keep your dick hard I wouldn’t be so inclined to think so.”

That one hit below the belt. It made Shinji angry.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t wear those tiny crop tops and dance like a slut for everyone at random parties, I wouldn’t think you were one—”

_Smack!_

The feeling of her palm meeting his cheek was somehow not as painful as her words.

“You’re a piece of shit, Shinji Ikari. Get back to me when you’ve learned basic respect.”

And, the door slammed behind her.

Shinji always thought she’d disappear like smoke, but in typical Asuka style, she disappeared like an exploding firecracker.

Shinji banged his arm against the door and pressed his throbbing forehead against it. His tears pitter-pattered on the floor as he grossly sobbed and wheezed on the mucous that he could no longer bare to swallow into his churning stomach.

 

* * *

 

She flew into the house, the front door slamming on its stopper.

“F-Fuck,” Asuka choked on the word. She felt like stupid Shinji, wiping away tears when they just kept falling. She shut the door only to lean against it and slide to the ground. Her tears made her knees wet.

Was she really that disgusting—was she really that ugly? Was she so unattractive that her own boyfriend wasn’t even into her?

(God, she felt like such a fucking failure.)

She hadn’t even noticed how loud she was crying until a hand was placed on her shoulder.

“Hey.”

Asuka didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to face anyone. She knew the truth—she knew that she was probably the worst person alive. Irredeemable. Base. Disgusting. _Pathetic._

“C’mon, Asuka.”

But, her voice was sweet and sing-songy, even when she was clearly concerned. At first, Asuka didn’t do anything, just sobbed into her knees because she couldn’t find the strength to stop. She wasn’t sure where all this emotion was coming from. Sadness was not in her nature. She was more accustomed to anger, so this unrelenting rawness hurt so much more than just pure rejection.

“Asuka, you’re going to catch a cold if you’re all balled up by the door. There’s no one in the living room. Come sit with me on the couch, okay?”

That was the first time she registered the voice as Mari’s, and it was kind of strange that her usual flamboyant attitude seemed to have disappeared like smoke.

It was weird to be taken care of like this when she hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. Usually, if Mari had to lead her around, she had just barfed in the toilet or fallen down the stairs. But, that didn’t mean her grief wasn’t intoxicating. It made her unable to walk a straight line. It made her feel like she was going to throw up. She felt the urge to rip herself open and let her blood and guts fall to the floor to signify her disdain for her own existence.

“Asuka, if you don’t calm down you’re going to hyperventilate.”

She realized she was sitting on the couch with Mari’s arms around her. Her ear was pressed to her chest. She could hear the thumping of Mari’s heart. It was strangely melodic.

“Shhh...it’s okay. I promise you, everything will be okay.”

“How can you say that?” she choked out, hands clenching into fists under her chin. “I’m literally the most disgusting person on the planet. I don’t deserve to exist.”

“Asuka, please don’t say stuff like that. You are wonderful.”

This made her move her fists in front of her eyes so she could catch the tears that just kept falling out. She didn’t even have an excuse. It wasn’t like she was drunk. She was just pathetic.

“You’re lying. I’m so disgusting. I hate that I’m even alive.”

She knew that her words were upsetting to Mari. She knew she was being too much, but she was always just—too—much. She hoped Mari could understand that. She hoped Mari empathized with just being fucking extra. It was clear now that Shinji could never possibly understand her because he was so stuck in his own head, his own power fantasies, his own problems. She knew she shouldn’t convolute her own self worth with all of his fucked up bullshit, but it was just so hard.

She really did care for that idiot.

“It’s okay, Asuka.”

Oh, yeah, she had been crying. She forgot.

“What happened with Shinji?” It was jarring that she didn’t call him Puppy Boy. That elicited its own specific kind of grief.

“Ugh, God, I don’t even want to talk about it.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

“Why are you being so nice to me? I don’t get it.”

“Because I like you as a person.”

“Ew. Why would you do that?”

Mari laughed, maybe a little too loud.

“I don’t know. Guess it’s just something that happens.”

“You’re so gay.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You promise you’re not mad at me?”

“I can’t be mad at my Princess.”

“I’ll yell at you about that tomorrow.”

“Fair enough.”

The embarrassing part of the whole thing is they fell asleep like that—Asuka curled up in Mari’s arms. Luckily, Mari woke up first and spared Asuka from the mortification of realizing she was probably into the token sorority gay.

 


	3. Oedipus Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> n. a desire for sexual involvement with the parent of the opposite sex and a concomitant sense of rivalry with the parent of the same sex

What a fucking idiot.

Shinji stood, staring at the carpet with a vacant stare. He couldn’t believe that just happened.

(He wanted to blame it all on Asuka, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t—she was completely right—her anger was completely justified—he had acted like a royal fucking asshole—he had disregarded her feelings and was focused only on his own—oh, God, it was his fault, it was his fault, it was his fault—)

Before he knew it, the whiskey bottle was in his hand, and he was sitting at his desk, staring at the mess of papers, the mess of dirty clothes, the mess, the mess, the mess—

The shock of whiskey burning his throat hurt enough that it forced his thoughts to stop speeding out of control for a second. What had Dr. Nagisa said? Exhale for three seconds? He took a deep breath and forced himself to breathe out slowly. It didn’t really help, but it helped enough that he could reorient himself to that point in time. Not that he really wanted to. He hated this. He hated this and that and everything.

And, more importantly, he hated himself.

Shinji drank more whiskey, coughing as fresh tears tugged at his eyes. He should drink water to wash away the stinging pain, but this was just as much punishment as it was a way to escape.

(He felt like he deserved this pain.)

Why couldn’t he do anything right? Why did he let himself ruin any positive aspect of his life? Maybe that’s just how he was. Maybe he was destined to fuck up everything he ever touched. It wasn’t too hard to believe. It seemed like everyone disliked him for just being himself. Being sad was out of the question. Bothering people with his feelings was punishable by abandonment.

Another drink. His vision swam a bit, but his chest still ached painfully. It felt a bit like when he thought about his mom, but it wasn’t as intense. It was a strange feeling—half-way between grief and panic, but instead of being sharp and stabbing, it was dull and throbbing.

Trapped. That’s the only word he had to describe it. Talk to people, it’s a problem. Keep it inside, it’s a problem. There weren’t really any good options. He wanted out, but now didn’t really seem to be the right time to die.

Probably shouldn’t have been drinking, though. That was bad. Always ended in tears. It just sucked that it promised happiness for a second, and then, it didn’t. What a cruel world—nothing made him happy, and the one thing that used to didn’t anymore.

He could laugh about it.

Ha ha. Ha. So funny. Really.

His insides felt twisted up, but that was normal. His heart always was beating weird, but that was probably normal, too. Probably had nothing to do with eating too little and drinking too much. It was all probably fine because all of his coping mechanisms pushed him closer to death, and well, wasn’t that what he wanted, anyway?

Would it be too dramatic to lay down on his floor and cry? Probably, but he was going to do it anyway. The carpet was soft enough that he didn’t really care if he was literally being an after school special stereotype.

He just didn’t know what to do anymore. It was to the point where even the most destructive of coping mechanisms were far too underwhelming. He had reduced his life to the bare of its bones, where his only existence was rolling out of bed, going to class, and rolling back in it. He was disgusting. It was disgusting. His entire existence was disgusting.

He wanted to rip himself apart. Piece by piece. Take off all of his skin. Let him rot. Let him bleed. Let him leave a stain on the floor. If he actually died, he hoped that it would take long enough for someone to check on him that the smell of decomposing flesh would haunt that dorm forever—his own personal, sick revenge.

He just didn’t know what to do anymore.

It was beginning to be more pleasurable to fantasize about his own death than it was to think about Dr. Nagisa. Like, he probably wouldn’t get a hard-on, but almost. It was just so blissful to think of a way to get him out of this—out of everything.

(He remembered days that he used to enjoy getting out of bed and taking care of himself. He used to like it when it was warm out. He used to feel happy when seasons changed from one to the other because it just—it just made him happy. He used to like buying a hot chocolate from the cafe down the road from his high school. He used to feel contented in his own skin. He used to associate smells with enjoyable experiences. Christmas smelled like pine and cinnamon, sounded like the rustling of paper and old songs, looked like falling asleep with his mom and dad beside him while they watched holiday specials. He used to take pride in his ability to just—to just _exist_. He didn’t even really know how to explain it because it wasn’t one feeling exactly. It was hundreds of little experiences that shaped him as a person, shaped his personality, and somewhere along the way, it’d all just disappeared.)

You don’t realize the simple pleasures of being okay until you are eventually robbed of them.

Hikari had said he looked like he was suffering, but how could she have known when he was just figuring it out?

Oh, he hated that he was sobbing into his carpet. It was so ridiculous, so cliched. He was so disgusting. He felt like a caricature of himself—a big, fat joke. Disgusting. So disgusting.

The only thing he could do was sit up and take another swig from the whiskey bottle.

Sure, it wasn’t helping, but what was he supposed to do? He didn’t know what to do anymore. What was he supposed to do?

(He was already trying the hardest he could.)

A voice that sounded strangely like Asuka’s said something to the effect of, (Yeah, right. Sounds like you’re making yourself into a victim. If nothing else, you’re just making a fool of yourself.)

“I don’t know what else to do,” he choked out. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. What am I supposed to do?”

His inner mantra didn’t respond back.

“Fuck.”

The amount he was crying was beginning to be a bit excessive. It was embarrassing him even though he was alone.

He took another drink. It burned, but physical pain wasn’t really something he experienced anymore. If anything, the burn of bad alcohol in his throat was just a reminder that he was still connected to his corporeal form.

Make it better, make it better, how was he supposed to make it better? What was he supposed to do?

Society said it was not okay to want to die, but what was he supposed to do?

What was he supposed to do?

What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do?

(He had no idea what to do.)

Shinji laid back down on the ground. He stared at the legs of his chair because they were there. It was so dreadfully mundane that, in a way, it was comforting. In that moment, if everything else was so painful that he couldn’t face it, this chair had four legs, which were resting on the floor. It was a boundary, even though it was an obvious and self-explanatory boundary. It still made him feel more connected to the rest of the world.

“Is this what I deserve?”

The chair didn’t respond back.

A part of him wanted to find the way up to the dormitory roof, but that was so hard. He didn’t even have the energy to lift his head off the carpet.

This was one of the only times that drinking until he passed out was probably a good thing.

 

* * *

 

It’s sticky. Shinji is walking down the corridor down Central Dogma, drying his hair off lazily with a towel. In front of him walks the fifth child, Nagisa Kaworu, at a slow pace.

He’s so slow. It’s annoying. But, Shinji can’t help but match his pace.

His hair. Grey? On a kid?

But, no. It’s more silver. It glimmers in the light in an almost artificial manner, but it is his hair. His hair is sticky too.

He hangs a towel around his shoulders, threads of hair disheveled when he slicks it back and wipes the tang off his brow. He stops. Shit.

Shinji realizes that he was staring at him the entire time. Kaworu turns his head towards Shinji's direction. Shinji's body stiffens—he can’t relax his awkward smile.

Kaworu raises his brow, then smirks, “Well, this is it.” His eyes squint when he smiles diabolically.

Shinji looks up and notices that he’s almost walked into the NERV changing room unintentionally while following Kaworu.

“T-This is fine.”

Suddenly, Shinji finds himself right next to him, his back facing Kaworu on the other side of the bench. The hiss of air releasing through the opened valve on his plugsuit seems markedly louder in the tense silence Shinji can practically taste. Orange liquid pools on the floor as he struggles to release the stubborn suit off his body. A hand is suddenly gripping his bare shoulder and causing him to flinch. A shiver runs down Shinji’s back, and he can’t help but gasp and stutter.

“Hey, are you okay? I was just thinking…”

Shinji’s plug-suit hangs half open from his chest. There is a pool of orange fluid between his skin, and it's dripping off him as he shivers. The air is cold. Kaworu’s hand on his shoulder is, too.

“…Is there anything you wanted to talk about?”

Oh. Oh my god. Kaworu hair just so delicately brushes against Shinji’s cheek. His thin hands are touching him somewhat lewdly—up the shorter boy’s neck, brushing his hair against his scalp behind his ear, forcing him to look his way. A tingle runs up Shinji’s spine, and he bites his lip. Everywhere Kaworu touched felt good, his breath, fingers. He can’t really resist him, nor does he actually want to. He can feel the fluid off Kaworu's plugsuit drip down his back, having been pressed up against him.

“Were you watching me before? You were waiting outside the test area for me, weren’t you? Ah, you’re so cute, Shinji.”

Kaworu blows air behind Shinji’s ear, forcing another desperately restrained, high-pitched “ahh” to slip out of him in reaction. Kaworu loves to toy with Shinji, but Shinji doesn't bother to do anything but accept that he is Kaworu’s play thing. He can’t move, his body keeps shaking against his will. It is really too good to feel his neck kissed so gently, leaving so much more to be desired.

“K-Kawo—Ahh…”

Shinji arches his neck and is taken aback by the other boy’s hungry gaze. Kaworu is staring at him devilishly. Shinji is preyed by boiling sensations which he arouses in him. He has been captured by Kaworu’s aggressive advances. Something is pressing against his back.

 

* * *

 

Shinji gasped loudly and suddenly sprang off his pillow. His body stiffened momentarily as he struggled to catch his breath, grasping at the sheets in front of him and sucking back up the saliva pooling in his mouth. His body felt incredibly sticky, throbbing in a rush of confusing sensations that caused him to maintain his hazy-eyed, sitting up position for a few minutes before coming to his senses.

He pushed his bangs back and became aware of how drenched his forehead was in sweat. He grabbed a tissue from behind the bed and wiped his face off, picking at the sand in his eyes. He couldn’t remember if he woke up with tears in his eyes or if he had started crying once he reminisced about the content of his dream.

Once the disgust of marinating in his own body fluids overwhelmed his tiredness, he decided that the issue of laundry should be dealt with as immediately as possible. He cringed at how damp his thighs felt as he shifted his sheets away from him. He spent the next hour spot-cleaning and attempting to wet-wipe the remaining crusties off his stomach before slipping into some “I give up on my appearances for today” sweatpants and an old hoodie.

It was later than he thought. He’d already slept through his first class, and he didn’t really feel like exerting the energy it took to leave his room.

There was a knock on the door.

(Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, he took so long trying to decide whether or not to skip class that Asuka was going to make that decision for him.)

“Hey! It’s me, open up!”

It was clearly Asuka’s voice on the other side. He didn’t especially feel like associating with another living human at the moment, but it was Asuka, and it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

“It’s open.”

The knob twisted, and Asuka made her way through the threshold. It was later in the day, maybe about 2:00 pm, so she looked put together regardless of whatever happened the night before.

Shinji was sitting on his bed, listening to his SDAT. He did not look put together. He looked like a mess. What else was new?

“Hey.”

He took out his earbuds, allowing himself to make eye contact with her. She didn’t look as angry as he had expected.

Instead of returning the greeting, Shinji just said, “Sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” What was that expression? Was it guilt? It looked strange on her face. “We both kinda fucked up, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Asuka pointed at the chair at his desk.

“Can I sit?”

“Yeah.”

If she noticed the empty whiskey bottle underneath his desk, she didn’t say anything.

There was a sustained silence, one that made tiny butterflies of anxiety itch at his stomach. It also didn’t help that he still felt a little nauseous from drinking a bunch the night before and not chasing with water. It was not a good combination of sensations. However, Asuka decided enough was enough and spoke first.

“I—I’ve been thinking about stuff. And, talking with Hikari and Mari. Not just recently, but like, for a while.”

Shinji did not like the tone that Asuka was using. It was too level, too down to earth. Asuka had never been any of those things—that just wasn’t how she was. His foot was tapping nervously.

“T-Thinking? About what?”

Was being intentionally dense going to put off the inevitable?

“I think—I think we should take a break.”

“What?”

It felt like he had been punched in the gut.

“All we’ve been doing is fighting, and I think it’s making you worse, and—”

“But, I—we’ve dated for so long, I don’t—why are you saying this now? We _always_ fight.” Words kept tumbling out, not really in any coherent form, but he couldn’t quite catch his breath, and talking made him feel like he wasn’t drowning.

(This couldn’t be happening.)

“Yeah, and that’s probably not so good.”

“But, I—I don’t want to—”

( _I don’t want to be alone._ )

“I’m not saying it has to be forever or anything, but everything has been stressful, and I don’t think that we’re doing each other any favors by getting on each other’s nerves constantly.”

Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.

( _God, no, if Asuka leaves then I don’t have anyone left. Everyone already hates me for being such a mess, and if she leaves me, I’m going to be all alone._ )

He hadn’t realized that he had already started to cry. That had to be a world record for ‘Fastest to Reach Tears During a Breakup.’ Pathetic. What a waste of space.

“Shinji, c’mon. I’m not trying to make you upset. You know that I care a lot about you.”

“Do I? You probably secretly hate me.”

She huffed, rubbing at her forehead. “If I hated you, I wouldn’t be bothering to give you an explanation. I could have just ghosted you, but I’m not completely heartless.”

That didn’t really make him feel any better, but his logical side did have to admit that this was probably the most considerate that Asuka could be. That didn’t mean his skin didn’t sting and his head didn’t hurt. It also didn’t mean he could stop crying. He felt like all he was doing was crying lately. It made him feel disgusting.

Asuka tried again.

“Listen, it’s not like this doesn’t hurt me either. I like being with you and hanging out with you. But, I don’t know, maybe we’ve both been ignoring how we actually feel,” she sighed. “To be honest, I kind of only wanted to go out with you back then because it was convenient.”

Everything she was saying was true, but Shinji still hated it. It still made his heart sink in his chest.

“So, what, I was only your fuck buddy?”

“That’s literally not what I said,” Asuka laughed angrily. “You know, I’m trying to talk to you honestly, and you just keep escalating!”

“How can you blame me for being upset?”

“Oh my God, Shinji. You’re literally only hearing what you want to hear.”

He knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t really stop now.

“W-Well, I’m sorry for feeling like shit when the last four years feel like a lie. You’re the only person I have, and if you leave—”

“Shinji, you know that’s not true. What about Kensuke, and Hikari, and Toji, and Mari? And, it’s not like we can’t still hang out.”

Of course, he knew all this. He just wanted to throw a fit.

(And, really, what Asuka was saying wasn’t completely true. Shinji was aware that once they weren’t ‘a thing,’ Asuka and her friends could slowly distance themselves, slowly cut off communication, especially since he had been so volatile recently. Who really needed a loser like him if all he did was get drunk, fall down, and cry?)

“But, how can you say that? You could just stop talking to me. You could turn my friends against me. I don’t want to be alone—” His own tears cut him off. They had gotten thick and sticky, and even in Asuka’s irritated state, she seemed to be growing more pensive.

She got up and grabbed the tissue box from his bedside table, taking a tissue for herself and handing the box to Shinji. She sat down next to him on the bed.

“I don’t...I guess I can’t know a hundred percent.” Even her eyes were getting a little misty. She sniffed and ran the tissue under her nose. “But, do you really think that badly of me? Do you think I’m that much of an asshole?”

Shinji used a tissue to try to dry his cheeks, but it was useless. He blew his nose.

“I don’t know.”

“Jesus, Shinji. How can you not know me even after all these years?” She wiped away a few stray tears but was trying her best not to break down as completely as Shinji was.

“You’re always so mean to me. I never know if you like me or hate me.”

“I’ll admit I can be a bit much, but I’m not vicious.” She tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched away. “I don’t _hate you_ , Shinji.”

A question lingered on her lips, but she didn’t want to say it, didn’t actually want to know the answer.

( _Do you hate me?_ )

She didn’t know if her pride could take it. And, since he was crying, she might not even get an honest answer. Maybe it was best if she just pretended like there was no ill will between them.

“Is there anything I can do?”

He coughed on his own snot.

“No.” Shinji let his hand run over his face, rubbing at his eyes and at the moisture on his cheeks. “Are you doing this because I’m so pathetic?”

“You’re not pathetic. You’re just going through some shit. I can respect that, I guess.”

He clenched his fists on his lap, collecting the sweatpant material in his fingers.

“I feel pathetic,” he murmured. “What man sits around and cries all the time?”

Asuka shifted in her spot next to him.

“See, this is why I was so insistent that you go see a therapist. I don’t know how handle this kind of stuff, y’know? I don’t want to make things worse for you. I really don’t.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he sighed. “I’m trying, okay?”

She nodded even though she wasn’t sure if Shinji was telling the truth or if he was just trying to get her off his back.

“Listen, I have a class at three to get to, so…” She winced as Shinji flopped down on his side to lay on the bed.

“I know. You have to go. You have to move on with your life,” he said bitterly.

“I didn’t mean it like that, geez. If you need to talk more, text me, okay? I’m not about to just stop talking to you all together, so don’t worry about that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean it.”

Shinji didn’t move. He refused to look at her.

“Alright, whatever. I’ll see you later, Shinji.”

She didn’t slam the door this time, but the sound still echoed in his head. It tossed around his skull until his brain hurt. It signified the end of a period in his life. Four years. Four years. And, then, just like that, it was over. He couldn’t help but feel betrayed. He couldn’t help but feel insignificant, like he didn’t matter to anyone.

( _You should have seen this coming._ )

Well, he didn’t. He didn’t see it coming, and it felt like a slap in the face—a stab in the back. It felt worse than being nauseous. It felt worse than just being stuck.

Shinji knew he shouldn’t skip more classes, but there was no way he could face anyone right then. Even if he knew no one could guess that he was freshly single, he was convinced that his shame would be palpable to anyone who looked at him.

He decided to spend the rest of the day drifting between sleep and semi-consciousness.

 

* * *

 

The worst part of the whole thing was that even though everything was tumbling down around him, he still had to go to class. A part of him felt like this was unfair, that if anyone knew how hard it was for him to get out of bed and put on clothes and function as a student, they would cut him some slack.

But, Shinji didn’t really want to be treated differently. Being generally the worst was already punishment enough without the added pity of his teachers knowing that he could barely do anything at all without bursting into tears.

At least, it was generally nice out, not that is really made any difference. The fall and winter seasons felt like they were getting milder as time went on. Global warming, he mused. It probably would have been harder to convince himself to attend classes if it was snowing or if the wind cut through him like a knife.

The warmer temperatures still couldn’t make him care about his grades, though. He couldn’t get himself to care about anything. It was annoying, if nothing else.

Making his way to his second class of the day (after the bullshit he had been through yesterday, there was no way he was going to go to his 9 am), he saw a bird fly into one of the windows of the building he was walking past. It’s impact made a little _fwump!_ before it went limp and fell to the ground.

What a stupid creature. Can’t tell the difference between an open and closed window. Or, maybe it did it on purpose. Can birds feel suicidal?

Shinji’s gaze went to the street. A car whizzed by.

He wished it was as easy as flying into a window.

(It would be easy to step out in front of a car, but it didn’t guarantee that he’d actually die. He might just wind up with broken bones or paralyzed legs. Getting horribly injured sounded worse than dealing with normal life.)

He still felt jumping was the best option, but it was just so overly dramatic. Shinji wouldn’t describe himself as a particularly dramatic person, and he’d rather just kind of slip away, just fade into the background. But, the thing about death is that it is inherently dramatic because people place value on living, for whatever reason, and any sort of death is seen as a big deal.

It didn’t seem fair that Shinji had not asked to be brought into this world, but he wasn’t allowed to willingly take himself out of it.

He tried to push it back, tried to push it away from the front of his brain. Fixating wasn’t a good idea no matter how bad he felt. Unfortunately, he didn’t have to try for very long because another one of his demons rose up to greet him.

On the other side of the street, walking back towards the building that housed his office, was his father.

Shinji felt his stomach drop past his knees.

(There was no way he couldn’t have seen him as he walked by. Deliberately choosing to ignore his own son? Nice. Cool. That’s great. Especially since it had been a while since they even had a conversation, and that conversation had been awful. They were always awful these days.)

Then, why did he still have the urge to follow him? Why did he have the urge to talk to him? He knew it would end badly, but Shinji still wanted his attention. It was shameful, to say the least.

He cursed himself, but his legs still forced him to walk in his father’s direction.

 

* * *

 

“Shinji, why are you dressed like that? You look awful.”

Shinji scoured. He knew he looked awful. His father didn’t need to rub in the obvious all over his face. Just a moment had passed since he closed the door behind him and his father already had something negative to pick at. Shinji couldn’t even raise his head, he couldn’t bear to look at that bitter expression evident through his father’s tone. He looked to the side of his father’s desk and at the picture of his mother standing so gracefully in a summer dress, holding himself as an infant. She looked really happy. Was there a time when his father was happy to hold him?

“I just wanted to say hi...I haven’t seen you for a few days. I saw my teacher and a therapist this week.”

“A therapist?”

“From school.”

“Therapists are a joke, Ikari. You need to deal with things yourself. That's what adults do. It just shows me how immature you are.”

“I’m an adult. This is how I’m dealing with it myself. No one told me to go.”

“Sure.” Gendo took another sip of his caramel drink. Shinji could smell its strength from a few feet away.

“You shouldn’t drink in your office, Father.”

“You shouldn’t tell me what to do in my space, Ikari. Still, I’m glad you let me know about your teacher. I got an e-mail from her the other day, actually. So, I didn’t know if you would lie to me about it or not. She said you’re doing poorly. It’s disappointing. You used to do pretty well in high school.”

“That’s not the point, I’m feeling sick this semester...”

Gendo swirled his drink in one hand, facing his computer and skimming over the e-mail. “You have to maintain your grades, or I won’t pay for you to go to school here.”

Shinji slammed his foot on the floor and stood up. He  _hated_ who he would become in the presence of his father. His father pushed all his weak buttons, and he would suddenly become incredibly short-tempered in his presence. His father must have thought of it as a joke, just to prove how bratty and ignorant Shinji was. This just made him even angrier. “Look at me when you’re talking to me! I’m only going here in the first place because you get a sweet discount being faculty! I never even said I wanted to go to this school! God, why did I bother? You’re drunk. I can’t talk to you like this.”

“You shouldn’t talk like that to your father, you need to be more appreciative of the luxuries you have. Not everyone gets to go to college. Anyway, I should be going to teach a biology class soon. Don’t slam the door when you leave.”

Shinji gathered his things together and made sure to give his father a sour look before leaving the door hanging and slowly creaking shut behind him.

It didn’t have to be that way. His father used to laugh and smile with him, crack awful puns and pat his back. He must have really lost two parents last summer, in retrospect.

 

* * *

 

The days seemed to roll over painfully slow until Shinji could meet Dr. Nagisa again.

Dr. Nagisa was looking as bright-eyed as he did before, as if he was so pleasantly surprised to have not scared Shinji off. Today, Shinji did, in fact, take his offer of coffee, which Dr. Nagisa also obliged in. He was wearing a similar configuration as last time. The major notable change that Shinji noticed was his choice of a green button-down which coordinated very stylishly with his eyeglasses and how Dr. Nagisa was trying to kill him by remarking about the nice weather they’ve been having as an excuse to roll his sleeves up his forearm (ending up before the bend of his elbows). Dr. Nagisa had his way of looking effortless in spite of the curtain of performance Shinji had imagined as a way to cope with the situation at hand.

Shinji suddenly became aware of himself in a way that he could not have afforded attention the last time they spoke. It was especially awkward for him, considering that confusing wet-dream from the nights before. Asuka’s words continued to ping in his mind and caused his chest to tense every time they arose to his consciousness. Shinji watched the dark liquid dance within his nervous hands. He sat in silence as they both sat down for the session.

Nagisa tapped his pen on the paper, looking nonchalantly at the window in line with Shinji’s wondering gaze. The clock hands ticked painfully slow.

“Mr. Ikari, do you like the wildlife outdoors? Does it calm your spirits?

“I suppose so.”

“It will be spring soon. Hopefully, as it is fairly unlikely for snow to fall since the weather has been so warm, we may expect the life to show its face again.”

Shinji turned to face Dr. Nagisa and found that his eyes were meeting his inadvertently.

“You’re quieter than you were last week.”

“Oh, I-I’m so—” Shinji knew he was blushing from the rise of pitch in his voice. He stopped himself just so Dr. Nagisa could have the chance to notice his words. When he saw Dr. Nagisa’s pleased smirk, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Dr. Nagisa joined him.

“It’s more difficult than you made it sound, Dr. Nagisa.”

“I am not a strong behaviorist, but I hope maybe the technique may be applicable for your bad habit, Mr. Ikari.”

Shinji felt that weird feeling in his cheeks again. Oh, he was smiling. That’s so gross.

“Why are you covering your face, Mr. Ikari?”

“I-It’s nothing…”

“Are you trying to hide your smile?”

“...”

“Why would you do that? Is it _so_ out of character that you’re afraid being caught that way would lower the legitimacy of your usual air of somber?”

Shinji lowered his hands. Was he that obvious? When Nagisa looked at him, he felt like his soul was being picked apart, that Nagisa could read his mind and say those truths back to him more clearly than he could ever articulate.

Shinji raised his head, brushing his hair out of his face. He flinched. Nagisa had pulled his chair up more closely to Shinji without him noticing.

“You’re a very handsome boy, Ikari. You have a nice smile. Asuka must be lucky.”

Shinji averted his eyes so that he did not have to die when Nagisa flattered him like so. He bit the inside of his cheek.

“A-Asuka…”

“Your girlfriend, if I’m correct. You mentioned her last week.”

Shinji took a sip of his drink.

“She’s...not my girlfriend anymore. I think.”

“Be careful with your coffee, your hands are shaking.” Nagisa gently plucked the cup from Shinji’s grasp in his lap and put it on the small table beside him.

“Take a deep breath, do you see how much easier it is to talk about things when your bodily reactions aren’t getting in the way?”

“I guess, yeah…I wanted to talk with you about something.”

“Oh?” Nagisa’s expressions would follow Shinji’s, his smile becoming stern and his pen above his notebook as he began to scribble something down without losing eye-contact with Shinji. Shinji held his breath.

“I had a fight with my girlfriend. It was really bitter. I just...I didn’t think I could come today. I just woke up feeling so gross and awful. I’ve seen her for four years, but it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything. Just one stupid fight, and now, we’re over. Was I so easy to throw away? I must have got on her nerves one too many times. She just couldn’t deal with me. No one can. That’s why I’m having all these issues. No one is there for me when I really need them. Nobody cares about me, nobody cares if I live or die.”

Nagisa handed a box of tissues to Shinji, who blew his nose as discreetly as he could and struggled to hold his tears as they streamed off his cheek. On one hand, he felt mortified to be crying in front of Nagisa, but on the other—

“For some reason, I feel like I can do this in front of you, and it won’t be so bad. Why can’t it be so easy in real life?”

“I’m here, this is real life. Your feelings are reasonable, considering how it sounds as though your symptoms have had some isolating effect on those around you.”

“Yeah! That’s exactly it. It...It really hurts. I can’t even feel sadness or pain, I’m not allowed to feel anything. Everyone is nice to me when I’m fine, but when I’m upset no one wants to hear it. Even Asuka, she broke up with me because she couldn’t help me. She gave up on me.”

“So was Asuka your major source of comfort, but now you feel as though your relationship with her is irredeemable? What other people do you feel comfortable confiding your feelings too?”

“My mom. I really...I really can’t stand not having her. I could talk with her about anything. She was my best friend. But, when she...Asuka was all I had. Now she’s gone, too.”

“So, Asuka was, perhaps, some sort of replacement for that motherly love, someone you felt like you could express such thoughts as these without fear of judgement. What about your father—”

“I hate him.”

Shinji’s snap response looked like it surprised Dr. Nagisa. He seemed to perk up more intently, relaxing his shoulders and doting for Shinji’s reactions.

“Why do you hate your father?”

Shinji gripped palms tightly, he felt like an asshole for raising his voice to the gentle and concerned Nagisa.

“I mean—I don’t actually hate him, I don’t think. But, I think he hates me. He won’t talk to me. I think he’s mad at me about something, but I don’t know what it is.”

“So, you’re saying that your father doesn’t give you the affection you desire?”

“Y-Yeah, I guess. I don’t know. Everything was fine before my mom got sick last year. You’re the first person I talked about it with, since then...”

“I see.” It was as though Nagisa read his mind, and there were some circumstances that Shinji could leave hanging in the air with the knowledge that Nagisa would receive the depth of his grief through words alone. Shinji sniffled, looking at Nagisa’s feet and trying to think of something to fill the dense silence between them.

“Do you know what resilience means, Ikari?”

The question seemed out of place. “Sort of.”

“People are incredibly resilient. That is one of the most astonishing traits about humans. It’s the ability to go through intense pain and unusually tortuous experiences while still coming out of the other side, still able to pick the pieces of oneself up and accept their conditions. To find the will to live on.”

Shinji wiped his tears on his hoodie sleeve. Nagisa’s words and tone of voice had a miraculously soothing effect on him.

“I can’t imagine the pain of having to lose someone so close to you, but I can say that you coming here, seeing me—it’s destiny. It’s your destiny to grow as a person, to continue to face hardships while learning the ways to cope with them. To reach out to another person, to not be afraid to ask for help.”

“Nagisa...You’re sounding…” Shinji was taken back when he looked up and saw Nagisa’s wide eyes up close, peering into his soul and reading him with a kind of empathetic concern he had been so suddenly robbed of since his mother left him. The floodgates opened.

“Take another tissue, Ikari. It’s alright.”

“I just don’t want to be alone anymore. I can’t stand it! I can’t stand how everyone treats me. I just need one person, one person who believes in me and will listen and take care of me. If I had that, I’ll be fine. No matter what happens.”

“Your words are coming through, but you have to also learn to overcome the here and now. You want someone to save you, but you also need to learn to save yourself, Ikari.”

“Nagisa, stop calling me that.” Shinji’s palms were aching as his nails dug tightly into his fists. Nagisa leaned back and paused.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you. What do you want me to call you?”

“Please, call me by my given name. You’re not my teacher.”

A small, half-lidded smile slowly formed on Nagisa’s face. “If that's what you prefer, it's fine by me, Shinji.”

Shinji had to catch himself, finding that the words he was about to say escaped him. The way his given name slipped off Nagisa’s lips so easily, so naturally, was exactly how he had pictured it in his dream. Were his cheeks always going to be so hot and glowing whenever he saw him? He didn't want to think about what a weird face he must be making at that moment.

“Thank you...so much. It means a lot to me, more than you could know.”

“If only everything could be as simple, isn’t that right?”

Nagisa’s eyes sparkled again—that cute look that made Shinji’s heart rate pick up. Shinji hiccuped on his lame chuckle. “Yeah, if only.”

“I wish I could get my feelings across with others—" (in his head, he thought of Asuka, Hikari, his father…) "—as easily as I can with you, Nagisa.”

“It’s quite alright, I am your therapist after all. Continuing to disclose to me that which you do not to others is necessary for the therapeutic process.”

Shinji could feel his stomach fluttering when Nagisa would speak so softly, sounding so pleased with him. Was he really grateful just to hear his words? Someone like Nagisa, listening to someone like himself...The entire situation felt fantastically romantic. Shinji secretly wished he could talk all day with Nagisa, just to have him listen. Yet, he felt that his dominance in conservations with Nagisa was one-sided and that he came off as incredibly high-maintenance (which was both a fact and lie considering how quickly he would fall apart without supervision). There was still something on his chest.

“I had a dream about you.” It slipped out suddenly, under his breath. A Freudian slip, something which he was replaying in his mind but could not imagine he was already mouthing the words out his lips.

“What was that?” This was the first time Shinji had ever seen Nagisa caught off guard.

(Two choices. Take it back, forget it ever happened, bite his tongue and just deal with the awkwardness and be caught by Nagisa in a blatant lie because he’s far too perceptive to let a juicy comment like that slide. Or...)

“Y-Yeah, it was really weird. Something like a sci-fi movie. Something about giant mechas, like out of an anime. It felt so real though...like a real memory. We both piloted the giant robots. It's kind of a lame dream, actually. And you—” Shinji stopped to swallow a lump in his throat. His underarms felt uncomfortably moist. He prayed to God that he didn’t reek.

“Hmm, that’s actually really interesting. Dreams are often expressions of delicate feelings and thoughts which we have repressed or neglected throughout the day. They may also express a deficiency. However, it is ultimately to your own subjective interpretation to make sense of them.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what to make of it though.”

“You should try to keep track of your dreams, maybe keep a journal. It would be useful for our psychoanalysis. At the very least, try to immediately repeat the dream content in your own mind so you may not forget it. We can talk about them in session. Would you like to do that?”

“If you think it would be helpful to you, Nagisa. I mean, you’re already helping me out a lot, so…”

“My pleasure. Shinji, let’s end it here. I’d like to talk with you more about your dream, but we’re out of time again. If you like, you may even schedule me for longer times. That may also be beneficial, seeing as we often go over our limit.”

“If that’s what you recommend, I’ll take your advice. I trust you.”

“No problem, how is an hour and a half? I think that would be sufficient to fully conclude our thoughts in session.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks for seeing me again.”

“Ah, no need to thank me. It’s a _pleasure_. Have a good rest of the week!”

Shinji actually wished he could just stay a bit longer to look at Nagisa’s pleasant expression as he led him out the door.

 

* * *

 

Toji didn’t look as spooked as Shinji expected him to.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Shinji, honestly, felt a little dizzy. He had imagined Toji sneering at him, turning away in disgust, so the fact he was kindly acknowledging his existence was wild to him. It had been so long since they’d seen each other that it honestly felt like their last conversation had been a dream. And, just Shinji’s luck, he bumped into him when he had been given no chance to formulate any sort of response.

“Oh, um, hi, Toji.”

“Where ya goin’?”

He had a certain nonchalance to him that seemed both contrived and natural, and it was a bit off-putting to Shinji, who could be nothing but himself.

“Uh, just to the library. I have a test to study for if I don’t want to completely fail.” He laughed like it was a joke, but he didn’t bother to make the rest of his face look amused.

Toji offered a small smile.

“I’m goin’ to get coffee if ya wanted someone around while you’re studyin’.”

Shinji visibly tensed, his fists in a vice grip around the straps of his backpack.

“You’re not...mad at me?”

“Mad? Why’d I be mad?”

(Was he not still freaked out about what happened at the party? Did Asuka not tell Hikari about what Shinji had said? Or, did Hikari not tell Toji? There was no reason for him to be treating him well. He didn’t deserve it.)

“I-I—I don’t know. I was such a mess at that frat party—”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. Everyone gets too wasted every now and then.”

Funny, that was the same thing Kensuke had said.

“I mean, if you don’t mind—”

“Nah. I don’t care. Like I said, you seem like a cool kid. I don’t mind hangin’ around. It’s not like I’ve got class or anything.”

Shinji felt a pang in his chest, somewhere between appreciation and guilt. He kind of felt bad for wanting to be around people, but he so desperately wanted to be around people that he couldn’t say no.

It was probably a good thing he didn’t decline Toji’s offer because just being around another person made him calm enough not to order a black coffee, and surprisingly, he could focus better. It wasn’t like political science was that difficult, but when there was someone keeping him subconsciously accountable, he was actually able to make some progress, even in a coffee shop that smelled like old memories.

Well, until other shit came up.

“How’re you doin’, though?”

Wow. If he never had to be asked how he was doing ever again, it’d be too soon.

Shinji looked up from his notes with a sort of pained expression. “Huh?”

“I mean, I don’t know. Makin’ small talk.”

Yeah, right.

“I guess, I’m doing okay.” Lie. “But, uh, did you hear from Asuka at all?”

“Hear from Asuka? About what?”

“So, um, you didn’t hear what happened?”

Toji looked a bit jarred.

“What happened?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Shinji tapped his pen on the table and frowned. How had he gone from not wanting to talk to readily spilling his guts to a virtual stranger? It was annoying—like his own self was betraying him.

(But, the truth was, a part of him _wanted_ to talk. The feeling of having his insides tangled up had been increasingly taxing as time went on. Somehow, telling Nagisa about his life was not the same as just confiding in a peer.)

“Asuka broke up with me,” he said, looking out the window instead of at Toji.

“Oh, shit. Nah, I didn’t know.”

He picked up his pen again and started doodling on his notes.

“Are you doin’ alright? Like, are you fucked up about it?”

Shinji still wouldn’t make eye contact. The swirls he was drawing on his notes were easier to face than actual people who seemed to care about him for whatever reason.

“I mean, I guess. It just sucks because we’ve been together for so long. And, it was just one fight. It was a pretty bad fight, but still.”

“How long have you been seein’ her?”

“Four years.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, uh, I dunno, maybe we could go to a pub and hash it out.”

“I’m a freshman, Toji.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Yer a freshie. I keep forgettin’ because I’m already legal.”

Toji was that much older than him? Hikari and Asuka were sophomores, so Shinji had just assumed he was too. It made him feel even more embarrassed that he had lost his shit so badly.

“Sorry.”

“What are ya apologizing fer? Didn’t do nothin’ to me.”

“Sor—ugh, yeah I keep doing that. I’m trying to stop, but it’s hard.”

“Don’t beat yerself up too much. Sounds like you got a lot goin’ on, and I don’t want to add to it.”

Shinji finally looked up from his notes.

“T-Thanks, Toji.”

“Fer what?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “For talking, I guess.”

Toji leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee and folding his hands behind his head.

“Eh, it’s not something to thank me fer. I’m just listenin’. That’s what friends’re for, right?”

He looked at him like the words were foreign to him.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Toji offered a goofy smile, apparently finding Shinji’s unnecessary sincerity amusing.

“Dontcha got some test to be studyin’ fer?”  

“Yeah, you’re right,” he chuckled.

A few more minutes passed by before Toji piped up again.

“Say, um, I know of a pretty big party that’s goin’ on this weekend if ya wanted to come.”

Shinji looked up from his notes again in a homework-induced daze.

“Huh?”

“It’s a Christmas party, y’know, one last blowout before finals and shit, so it’s gonna be lit as fuck.”

Thinking about going out made Shinji feel a little queasy just by association. But, it had been lonely being cooped up in his dorm, especially since Asuka had stopped coming over. He took a deep breath, but it didn’t seem to quell the anxiety that had built in his chest.

“I don’t know. After the last time, I haven’t really felt in the party mood.”

“It’s just an idea. Maybe it’ll cheer ya up a bit.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Well, he was going to think about it later. He still had to make sure he wasn’t going to fail his Poli Sci final first.

 

* * *

 

It had been a while since Shinji had hung out Kensuke, so when he spotted him having lunch at the student union cafe, he thought it would be a good time to rub his smug face in the misfortune he had a hand in creating. He hadn’t meant to run into him, but it just seemed to turn out that way.

Shinji stood next to the table, waiting for him to notice, but it looked like he was going to have to get his attention.

“Well, she wasn’t cheating on me, you asshole.”

Kensuke’s head shot up from his already half eaten sandwich, looking like he’d just been ambushed.

“O-Oh, it’s you, Shinji,” he stammered. “And, w-whaddya mean? I didn’t say anything of the sort.”

Shinji flopped down in the seat across from him with noticeable exhaustion.

“Liar. You went out of your way to heavily imply it.”

He shrugged, setting his sandwich down.

“I was just giving you information. If that’s the conclusion you jumped to, that says more about your relationship than me.”

Kensuke noticed the downtrodden expression Shinji had on his face and frowned.

“I mean, you usually look kinda gloomy, but you’re kinda topping it right now.”

He rubbed at his temple.

“C’mon, what’s up?”

His sigh was more of a signal of resignation than anything.

“Asuka broke up with me,” Shinji muttered, foot tapping under the table.

“Oh, ouch. That wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“Yeah. Me either.” A signature heavy sigh. “Like, we fought, and then the next day, it was over. I still can’t believe it.”

Kensuke leaned back in his chair, shaking his head and crossing his arms.

“Girls, man. Can’t read ‘em.”

“Anyone can read Asuka. She’s like an open book. If you do something wrong, she’ll tell you...forcefully.” Shinji hadn’t bothered to get a drink or even something to eat, and he was kicking himself for not having something to cover up the awkward silences. “...She just—she just came out of nowhere with it, though. Like, yeah, we fight a lot, but it just felt like a slap in the face.”

“Geez, dude, I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe there’s other stuff going on, y’know? If it seemed kind of out of left field, then maybe you just don’t know about some things happening in her life.”

When he put it that way, it seemed kind of reasonable. Asuka was a generally outspoken person, but she wasn’t exactly emotionally available, and neither was he for that matter.

“Yeah, I guess. She doesn’t really talk to me about her problems. I don’t even know if she has any. I mean, she tells me when she’s got a hard test or if her friends are being assholes, but I don’t really know about the other stuff.”

Why was he telling Kensuke all this? He hadn’t even really admitted it to himself yet. Was he oversharing? Why was he revealing deeply personal information to random people?

(Is this what trusting your friends is like?)

“Sounds like that’s part of the problem,” Kensuke said, picking up his sandwich again. “If you guys weren’t honest with each other, then I can see how stuff would pop up out of nowhere.”

“I don’t know. I think she’s just annoyed at me as a person.”

“What did you guys fight about?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Kensuke made a face that looked like he was holding back a laugh.

“What? Is it embarrassing?" When he didn't respond, he continued, "Couldn’t get it up or something?”

Shinji choked on air, face turning a shade of red that Asuka would most definitely wear. For not the first time that conversation, he wished he had a drink to shove in his face.

“Whoa! Did I hit the nail on the head? Amazing. I’m better at reading you than I thought.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, covering his face with his hands.

“Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Happens to the best of us. You’ve been going out with her for a hell of a long time, right? Maybe you were just bored with her.”

Shinji wasn’t going to respond at first, but he hated how he made her sound disposable.

“She’s a person, Kensuke,” he said from behind his hands.

“I’m not saying she’s not. Just like, if you’re not into her like that anymore, maybe it’s a good thing you guys broke up.”

The other boy didn’t remove his hands from in front of his face.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Kensuke offered a light-hearted smirk.

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Then, why are you hiding like that?”

Shinji made a noise that sounded like he was being strangled.

“What was that?”

“She...said...I…”

“I can’t hear you.”

He took his hands away from his face and leaned forward, hands clenched on the table. “Just drop it.”

Kensuke looked highly amused with the whole situation.

“Oh, come on. It has to be really awful if you can’t even say it. Now I want to know.”

Shinji groaned, shaking his head and fumbling with his fingers like they were suddenly foreign to him.

He whispered it so quietly at first that Kensuke couldn’t hear him.

“What?”

This time he said it a bit louder.

“She accused me of being gay, okay?”

Kensuke looked less than impressed.

“So? She was pissed. She was probably just trying to take a cheap shot at you.”

Shinji stayed silent, looking at a straw someone had dropped on the ground. Kensuke shot him a confused look, moving his head to try to make eye contact.

“Wait. Why does it bother you so much?” Kensuke asked, putting his sandwich back on the table.

Shinji stayed silent.

“Oh, shit, you think she might be right.”

Shinji immediately put his head down on the table, hiding his face behind his forearms. Maybe if he stayed that way Kensuke would disappear.

But, it wasn’t likely.

There were a few silent moments where he seemed to be coming up with the right words to say.

“So, um, do you really think you might be—um—playing for the other team?”

He immediately sat up straight in what looked like sheer terror, a flush painting his entire face red (even up to his ears).

“I-I don’t—I mean, I don’t think so, I—” Shinji looked a bit horrified.

“Relax, man. It’s not like you have to figure out your entire sex life right this second. I’m just trying to help ya out.”

Slouching back in his chair, Shinji raked his fingers through greasy bangs. His sighs were especially heavy that day.

“Ugh, I don’t know.” He wished Kensuke would shut the fuck up, but at the same time, he kind of wanted to get this off his chest. It had been weighing pretty heavy on him. “I mean, it’s not like I’m _not_ attracted to girls. Like, it’s not like Asuka and I have been celibate or anything. I don’t know.”

“Well, maybe you play for both teams.”

“You can drop the sport’s metaphor now.”

“I’m just saying. You can like everyone, if that’s what floats your boat. Have you ever had a crush on a dude before?”

He hated that his mind immediately jumped to Dr. Nagisa.

(Fuck.)

“U-Um, well, I-I—uh…”

“You sound awfully guilty, Shinji. So, who’s the lucky fella?”

God, how did he always find himself in conversations like this? Did he have a pension for personal, embarrassing existential crises?

“If I tell you, you really, really, really can’t judge me.”

“Now, I’m kind of nervous. You haven’t gone and got the hots for some old dude or something, have you?”

If Shinji’s face could get any redder, it probably would have caught on fire.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, come on, I’m just teasing.”

Shinji put his elbows on the table and leaned forward, almost in a pleading way.

“Do you promise you won’t judge me?”

“Scout’s honor.” He held up his right hand to prove it.

“I-I saw this, um, therapist, and I think that I kind of like him—”

“You have a crush on your therapist? That’s even kinkier than I was expecting.”

At that point, Shinji picked up Kensuke’s sandwich, threw it at him, and made his way to class twenty minutes early.

 

* * *

 

Shinji wasn’t sure what it was, whether it was because he had talked with his friends or if being more honest broke down some kind of barrier, but he felt a few degrees more comfortable around Nagisa. Sure, his heart was still beating fast and his hands still had the propensity to shake (he had forgone the coffee since he kept almost spilling it on himself), but the uncontrollable squirming had died down considerably.

It also helped that being in his office—being with Nagisa was one of the only times he didn’t feel like such a burden.

“How are you doing today, Shinji?”

So, he had remembered. His first name still sounded so wonderful coming from his mouth. Shinji’s eyes flicked down to get a look at what shirt he was wearing that day (a soft lilac with tiny white polka dots), and then he met his gaze again. Did Nagisa look good in every color? What a talent.

“Um, better, I guess.”

“Is that so?”

“Y-Yeah. I’ve been kind of talking with my friends—um, Kensuke and Toji—about...what happened.”

“And, they’ve been supportive?”

“Actually, yeah, they have. I was scared that Toji would hate me because he was one of the people I more or less freaked out on at the party. And, I kind of...said some not so great things about him behind his back.”

Just as Shinji thought he could talk more freely, being reminded of his awful actions that day made him feel that familiar crushing guilt once again. Nagisa seemed to notice that he had tensed up because he offered a small cock of the head and a somber expression.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was your motivation to say these ‘not so great things?’”

Shinji ran his hand over his opposing forearm absentmindedly, trying to formulate a response that didn’t make him sound like the worst person on Earth. His foot tapped sporadically.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“N-No, I do. I just...feel bad about it, I guess.” He sighed, averting his eyes to the side. Even though Nagisa had been nothing but supportive, he very desperately didn’t want him to think he was a bad person. With another sigh, he said, “I-I kind of accused Asuka of cheating on me with Toji, and it was an incredibly stupid thing to do, and I hate that I did it, but I guess I was just so angry at her that I didn’t stop to think if it would hurt her feelings or if it was even based in reality, and I was just mad at her, and I—” He realized that he was running out of breath, so he inhaled sharply, and to his horror, it made a little squeak, that kind that happens during more hysterical crying sessions. It only made him feel even more shameful.

Shinji knew the rules, but he still felt like he should apologize for being a piece of shit. Instead of doing that, he just fell silent, feeling more like a sorry excuse of a person than someone who should be saying sorry out loud.

“The fight you had with Asuka is bothering you quite a bit, isn’t it?”

Nagisa still looked sympathetic. He didn’t look angry or disgusted at all.

(Shinji couldn’t help but think how easily his very existence set his father off, how voicing any sort of opinion brought out contempt from Asuka. Nagisa had not looked disappointed with him even once.)

It was...weird.

“Yeah.”

“What do you think bothers you the most?”

“I guess it feels like another way I screw everything up. Like, if I just acted slightly different, I might still be with Asuka.”

“Do you often feel like you screw everything up?”

Shinji nodded. He felt like a bobble-head doll someone had just lightly tapped on the head. Nagisa shifted in his chair, setting down his pen on the notepad. It wasn’t like he had been taking notes anyway. Did he just keep it all in his head? Did he care that much about him enough that he could just remember?

“It’s easy to place all the blame on yourself, especially if you already don’t feel very good, but things happen because of many different factors. If you felt anger in that moment, there was a reason. If you and Asuka got in a fight, there was a reason. Events don’t occur in isolation. They’re the result of all the thoughts and feelings you experience and all the people and situations you interact with. I understand your disappointment, but to put all the onus of responsibility on one decision is unfair to yourself as a person.”

The boy didn’t respond at first. He was busy picking at a hangnail. But, Nagisa was patient like he always was.

After a few moments of processing, Shinji said, “Can I say something, even if it sounds stupid?”

“Of course. I’m not here to judge you, Shinji. I’m here to listen.”

“Okay.” He still was looking down at his hands. “I feel like I don’t deserve to forgive myself. Like, if I don’t blame myself, I’m being conceited.”

This seemed to make Nagisa’s eyebrows furrow just a little bit. It was like he was trying not to let on how sad Shinji’s words sounded. Did he pity him? But, his eyes looked so soft and compassionate, and his body language was so kind, he couldn’t quite convince himself that was true.

“Acknowledging the reality of the situation isn’t conceited.”

Despite himself, he felt a small flicker of anger in his chest.

(What even was reality? In the moment, he thought he was justified, thought it was his right to put Asuka in her place for treating him so badly, but the reality turned out to be the opposite of what he perceived. He had no context on which to base the absurdity of his actions. His feelings always felt invalid, always felt outside his control, and most of the people in his life kept proving that to him over and over and over again. And, here was Nagisa saying that he was allowed to accept his own perception as some sort of fact? It didn’t make any sense. It went against how he had learned to view the world.)

“I guess.”

“Do you not think so?”

“I don’t know.” Shinji shrugged.

Nagisa offered a small smile.

“You’re pretty hard on yourself, aren’t you?”

He hated how his eyes squinted and his lips curled. Shinji couldn’t tell if he was a psychologist or a house cat sometimes. It was dreadfully adorable. And, it was annoying because he was actually trying to be present and participate as much as he could, but the goosebumps on his arms were distracting.

“Am I?”

“I would say so. Most people have a pretty accurate view of what is and isn’t their fault, but you seem to shoulder most of the blame yourself.”

There was another prolonged silence, and Shinji wished he had a drink to have an excuse to not respond.

“Dr. Nagisa, I—”

“If you like to be called Shinji, I’d prefer you just call me Nagisa. I’m not old enough yet to be ‘Dr. Nagisa’. I would hope that I still have some outer display of youth, if not, allow me to cling to it, if you would. Besides, I have not obtained my doctorate—yet.” That cat-like smile again.

Oh, God. Just when he thought that he wasn’t going to burn through his cheeks this session.

“D—Nagisa, how old are you anyway?” He never thought to ask, but regardless, he knew Nagisa looked much younger than would make chronological sense considering the inconspicuously displayed graduate-degree hung in the corner (as if to humble his accomplishments).

“Twenty-eight”.

Ten year age difference. Shinji remarked to himself that was the same as his parents—God, damn. When you’re an adult, the large differences in age shrink as if cohorts were just another spook. He remembered his mother said something similar to that once, or maybe it just arose out of his unconscious.

“You don't look it. I'd guess you were 20 or something if I just saw you walking around.”

“I'm flattered you think so.”

“Nagisa, I’m kind of...intimidated by you. You always look so nice. I feel so disgusting in comparison.”

“I knew. It's obviously expressed in your body language. You said this is the first time you had therapy, so it's reasonable for you to feel uncomfortable in a strange situation. However, you must be willing to accept the risks of such cases. Men must experience new things in order to grow and change.”

Shinji exhaled deeply. Nagisa always had a way of saying things that felt so affirming to him. He felt a sharp ping of cringe in his chest, but he was so, so happy to know that Nagisa did not reject him or judge him for being such a coward.

“You make a lot of sense. I really hated coming here at first, but now...I actually look forward to seeing you. I'm glad Hikari pushed me to come here, in the end. I feel so much better after I talk with you...It's so weird, like, that just talking with someone can feel so relieving.”

“I'd hope you're not still afraid of me. I'm still just another human being like you, Shinji. If you consider that, the circles of people outside aren't so out of reach and you don't feel so isolated. Titles are just another spook. All beings share the same instinctual urges: to avoid pain and seek pleasure. Let your mortal, human body be your reminder that you are not alone.”

“I'm not afraid of you. I was never afraid of you. It's changes that scare me.”

“You’re more intelligent than you give yourself credit for, Shinji. You’ve made a lot of progress for the few weeks we’ve been meeting. I’m proud of you. I’m so proud that you kept coming, even though it was difficult for you. I’m happy you accepted my outstretched hand.”

Shinji’s face turned beet red. He felt his words jumble around his tongue, and he didn’t really know how to react. “Thank you, N-Nagisa. Sorr—”

“Remember what we said about apologizing? Fufufu.” Nagisa smiled warmly through his snicker. Shinji wouldn’t admit that Nagisa’s smug expressions—sort of—turned him on.

“Aaahhhh…”

“Shinji, we’re just about out of time. I look forward to seeing you again. Do you have any weekend plans?”

“Sort of...I may go to a party.”

“Ah, I thought you weren’t the type.”

“I’m sick of being stuck on campus, and I want to see my friends again.”

“That sounds great. I hope you have fun.”

Well, he was going to try his hardest to, even if life had other plans.

 


	4. Infantile Sexuality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> n. to be alike those pyschosexual stages before the development of mature, heterosexual desires

As another barely-pubescent boy tripped over that so devilish rock, Kaworu dug his heels into the brushed sand. The boy took his offering hand, shifting his gaze downward-least he catch Kaworu’s bangs brushing against his eyebrows ever so slightly and making him strange. A group of five or so kids rushed around them, audibly panting before the knight and peasant could catch them up to speed. Kaworu dusted off his gym shorts, catching the other boy rubbing his knee. His scraps resembled dying gils, weeping like something on those vegetarian shock films begging sympathy for tuna fish.

“You should go to the nurse.”

“No, its okay, I—”

“I insist. We mustn't neglect the dangerous microorganisms within the dirt. An infection may range from a mere fever to a system-wide septi-”

“Alright already!”

The boy fumbled with the brown napkins from pluck over the counter of the concession stand in a weak effort to soak up the disproportionately weeping wound.

“Is there anyone you're interested in? Like, any girls?”

“Not in particular, if you mean romantically. Women are always taking advantage of me. Why do you ask?”

“I feel like everyone around me is catching dates and stuff. I guess people start dating around our ages. I don't know. I'm just curious about you, ‘cause all the girls keep talkin’ ‘bout you. Let me relay something to them, at least.”

“I’m not really interested in those matters.”

“Nagisa, isn't there any girl you think is, you know, good lookin’?”

“I've tried all my life to be attracted to the opposite sex.”

 

* * *

  

 _I see trees of green, red roses too_  
_I see them bloom for me and you_  
_And I think to myself what a wonderful world_

In a white world, the glass walls of a shower began to fog in anticipation. In this white world, there was a man with white skin and white hair. Water pooled out of the shower, he reacted in an act of ingenuity by swinging his robe on the floor as a make-shift bathmat. Stepping in, he could barely make out his own body. In this form, he was also relinquished of his necessary instruments, particularly the ones that allow him to see clearly. Kaworu would have to imagine the sight of droplets rolling off of smooth skin, magnifying and reflecting pale complexions and goosebumps. Scattering light briefly and smacking into each other before streaming off free appendages.

 _I see skies of blue and clouds of white_  
_The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night_  
_And I think to myself what a wonderful world_

He only had the reference of others to form such images, from his past experiences. Some of which in this shower, some of which in anothers’. Either way, it's all he could make do for in compensation for the amplified sensation of touch which followed the neglect of sight. Those wet droplets on his skin may be mistaken for those pearlescent beads pooling in the the dips of his stomach, rolling down his body. Cloudy, white honey. It’s remarkedly grotesque that the human body can produce such viscous fluids. You’d think it would taste like condensed milk, but it's actually kind of acidic. Disgusting.

 _The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky_  
_Are also on the faces of people going by_  
_I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do_  
_They're really saying I love you_

Armstrong was definitely one, if not, the greatest trumpeters of all time. He was also blessed with a smooth, deep singing voice which made Kaworu jealous. The faucet is sensitive. Too hot. Too cold. How frustrating. The small speaker hung above the shower head, swaying back with the pressure and distorting the trumpets barely escaping through such weak circuitry. Kaworu wondered what Louis would think about his music played in front of a single naked audience. He’d probably be disgusted. He definitely didn’t swing that way. Usually you don’t get that kind of recognition unless you happen to have been remarkable before people found out those more intimate details about your love-life. It’s a pity really, how little they have to do with each other in marked reality. Or perhaps it's because of that natural condition, that state of preconceived sexuality that one issues to relinquish their own shame by projecting their self-disgust onto another, changing their forms from forgotten others to exotic animals on display.

 _I hear babies crying, I watch them grow_  
_They'll learn much more than I'll never know_  
_And I think to myself what a wonderful world_  
_Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world_

A hand reaches through the glass.  
Whispers through that hazy gaze, staring directly into those rubies.  
But Kaworu couldn’t notice.

“Come back to bed.” The voice said.

“You should leave.”

“Huh? What did you say?”

“You can have something from the fridge if you want, but I have to go in an hour to work. Don’t forget your things. Do you have all your clothes?”

“Yeah, but, darling-”

“Don’t get the wrong idea.”

The shower speaker fizzled.

“Nagisa, ah, you’re so pretty. So, so pretty. Didn’t you have fun? You look like you did. I really want to see you again.”

“It’s for the best that you don’t.”

“...”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, I guess that’s just how Grindr is. It’s my first time doing something like this…”

“I don’t know how others react to these kinds of arrangements, but this is how it is with me.”

“Ok...I’ll get my stuff together, then...You have my number.”

“I probably won’t see you again, privately.”

The other man sighed heavily and left the bathroom, pulling the door handle with some frustrated force, least a slam.

Kaworu held his towel to his waist as he picked up a lazily discarded condom from the floor. It peeled off the floor, leaving behind a yellowish sticky film of who-knows-what.

“Disgusting.”

He went back in the shower, his soul dirtied by that deflated latex and the smell of sickly sweet slime. He must have run his hands over a bar of ivory soap twenty or so times.

 

* * *

 

She had always been small.

His natural propensity was to care too much, but Rei was the only person he knew that caring only made it worse.

“Are you doing alright?”

Kaworu smiled, but his smile was pained.

“Yes.”

It seemed like the more that he tried to become involved, the more she pulled away. He noticed that anytime he would ask about her wellbeing, she would become more isolated. She rarely came out of her room, but there was a distinct positive correlation between when Kaworu inquired about her and the length of time of her disappearing act.

When she wasn’t hiding in her room, she was always just reading her book. Constantly. She never did anything else. She didn’t seem to do anything besides go to sleep, wake up, go to school, read her book, and go to bed.

She also had been refusing to eat meat recently.

That’s not a problem, of course. Not really. It just struck Kaworu as odd. She had never expressed interest in vegetarianism before.

Rei had always kept to herself, but lately, it had been worse.

Kaworu—athletic, smart, attractive, generally popular and well respected (well, besides the  _rumors_ ). Not that Rei wasn’t. Rei was beautiful. All the boys fawned over her. But, she didn’t care about any of that. She never really...cared about anything. Kaworu couldn’t understand, but he respected it. That was just how she was. It wasn’t really his business, anyway.

That was, until, she started passing out at school.

He would always check up on her at the nurse’s office.

“Are you doing alright?”

Clearly, she wasn’t.

“Yes.”

That vacant stare she always gave. Like she wasn’t really there. Like she didn’t really care. It was off-putting to people who weren’t used to it.

“Low blood sugar, I’m assuming,” the nurse said, writing on a clipboard. “She fell down during gym class, but I can’t find anything wrong.”

He gave Rei a doting look, but her expression didn’t change.

“She’ll probably be okay now since she’s had some orange juice. No need to worry.”

Kaworu directed a smile at the nurse. “Thank you so much for taking care of my sister.”

“It’s no problem at all,” she smiled back. “She’s very compliant.”

He knew she meant it in a technical sense, but it just sounded so awful, like her only worth was how well she behaved at the doctor’s office.

Rei didn’t seem to care.

But, it wasn’t just at school. She started to fall down at home, too. Sometimes when she was doing dishes in the kitchen, sometimes when she was helping with the yard work, but it wasn’t that bad until—

(The sound of a limp body falling down the stairs is harrowing.)

Really, the worst part wasn’t the sound of her body, but the fact that she didn’t make a sound.

“She has a broken femur.”

Kaworu nodded his head in understanding even though he didn’t exactly know what that meant. They hadn’t gotten to the skeletal system in Anatomy and Physiology. His mother didn’t say anything.

“Ms. Nagisa, the femur is one of the thickest bones in the body, and it doesn’t usually break without some other factor involved.” When no one spoke up, the doctor continued. “A fracture of the femur means Rei probably has some sort of nutrient deficiency.”

Kaworu felt uncomfortable, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t know what these implications meant in regards to his sister. But, he still felt a pit in his stomach.

“What causes a nutrient deficiency like that?” he asked.

“Well, bone weakness is multifactorial, but usually when we see fractures of this severity in patients so young, it means that they’ve been eating a very poor diet.”

Kaworu felt a pang in his in his chest.

“What?”

“Have you noticed if Rei has been avoiding meals or exercising excessively?”

His mom was still silent. It was almost worse than if she hadn’t been there at all.

Kaworu felt like he was a second away from throwing up his lunch on the floor. (How could he have been so blind?) He sighed loudly. (He hated that he had been thinking that something had been wrong for a while and said nothing.)

“She suddenly stopped eating meat.”

“Any reason you can pinpoint?”

“Not really, she never really cared about eating in general.”

“I see.”

The doctor had a heavy way of talking about it. He was looking at her numbers on the computer (height/weight/blood pressure/blood glucose) and frowning. Something was wrong.

This time, his mom did speak up.

“What do you think is wrong with her?”

He seemed to be reluctant to say anything, but eventually, he relented.

“There are many factors that may be contributing to Rei’s condition, and we will test for them to make sure, but I’m afraid she may be intentionally doing this to herself.”

“What?” Kaworu couldn’t stop himself from saying anything.

The doctor looked disappointed—no, just plain sad—like he was apologizing for something, like it was his fault.

(Was Rei’s condition really so awful? Wouldn’t it probably be better to talk to her about it before everyone started jumping to conclusions?)

“I think she’s starving herself,” the doctor said. “Her serum prealbumin and albumin are low, and there were traces of ketones in her urine, which means she’s using body fat as an energy source. She also is on the cusp of being anemic. While these values are not definitive, they’re quite telling.”

Kaworu wasn’t usually combative, but he couldn’t believe that a doctor, with all his degrees and certifications, was going to make such a presumption.

“Have you even talked to her about it?”

“Patients with eating disorders usually conceal their symptoms and destructive actions from their families and practitioners, so it’s just important that you two are aware of the situation.”

“But—but Rei isn’t like that. She doesn’t hide things. She’s...pretty straightforward about everything.”

“We will speak with her. I assure you, she’s being handled with the utmost care.”

He wasn’t sure why, but he greatly disliked that the doctor seemed to be talking about her like a fragile object rather than her own person with individual needs and experiences. Of course, he can’t possibly know her like Kaworu did, but still.

The worst part of the whole thing was seeing Rei look so sickly. He hadn’t noticed that she had been getting thinner until the florescent lights were caught in the spaces carved out of her cheeks and her collarbones. Even the hospital gown seemed to gape off her. It also didn’t help that her elevated and bound up leg was putting her in a strange position.

“Rei,” the doctor said. “Have you been eating less than usual?”

Rei looked like she couldn’t be bothered.

“I don’t know.”

“Your brother said that you stopped eating meat. Why did you decide to do that?”

“I don’t like meat.”

“Have you been trying to lose weight?”

“No.”

Even though he was trying not to let on, Rei’s rather vacant tone and expression was throwing him off. Maybe even her answers were bothering him. Was she not sticking to her predetermined script?

“Rei, have you not been feeling well lately? Tired, sick, or even just down in mood?”

“I don’t know.”

He cleared his throat and shuffled the pieces of paper he was holding.

“Well, our health care team thinks you might have broken your leg because you aren’t eating enough.”

“Oh.”

“Would you agree with that?”

Rei’s eyes flickered momentarily over to Kaworu, who had been sitting in a tense silence during the whole interaction and then flickered back.

“I guess so. It wasn’t my intention to get sick.”

“We know, Rei. No one wants to be in the hospital. We just want to know the best way to treat you so you can get back home.”

“Okay.”

Maybe the doctor had been prepared for a fight because he seemed ever so slightly annoyed by the girl’s apathy. He would never get angry, though, because that is a terrible bedside manner to have.

Kaworu would later overhear that doctor talking with a nurse. Something about (“We need to get a psych eval on her. She’s like a lifeless doll, almost completely catatonic. Something’s not right with her.”)

It wasn’t often that Kaworu would get angry, but that doctor pissed him the fuck off.

(Rei had just always been like that. It wasn’t her fault. There may have been something wrong, but Rei was no lifeless doll. He had the scars from childhood roughhousing to prove it.)

She wasn’t just a patient. She was his sister.

Kaworu promised that no matter what profession he got into, he would never allow himself to become as jaded as that asshole doctor from the NERV University Hospital.

 

* * *

 

He kept accepting his offer of coffee, but Kaworu could tell that it wasn’t really about the coffee.

“You don’t have to have anything if you don’t want to.”

He was trying to be as kind as he could.

“N-No, I want to. I promise.”

Kaworu offered a smile.

“Alright.”

Shinji always seemed like he was a moment away from bursting into tears. His hands would shake, and every time he greeted him, he looked afraid. Kaworu wanted to calm him down, but he hadn’t quite figured out how to do that yet. He was trying his best, though.

(Mostly, it just kind of made him sad.)

He handed the styrofoam cup of instant coffee to the boy, and he seemed so grateful like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. It’s as though the boy had never received human kindness before.

(He also noticed that Shinji had a tendency to linger like he was trying to extend any possible physical interactions by even just a few extra seconds.)

As they went into his office, Shinji’s eyes momentarily went to the picture of Rei on his desk. If he was curious about her, he never mentioned it. The couch squeaked when Shinji sat on it. He did that thing he always did—kinda shift around awkwardly in a tiny nervous dance, fussing with his hair and looking positively flustered.

“How are you, Shinji?” Kaworu smiled.

He calmed down enough to stop fidgeting. He ran his hand through his hair one last time.

“I-I’m okay.”

“Better than you have been?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t really done much. I took a quiz in political science.”

“Oh?”

Kaworu crossing his legs seemed to make Shinji nervous.

“Y-Yeah. I’m doing really bad in that class, so I’m scared I bombed it.”

“Why do you think you’re doing poorly in that class in particular?”

“I think it’s because it’s so early in the morning. It’s at 9 am, and I know it could be worse and be an 8 am, but it’s so hard for me to stay awake.” His body looking like it was growing heavier as he was talking. He looked ashamed of himself.

“Your intake survey did mention sleep disturbances. Sleeping too much or too little is a common symptom of depression.”

“Hmm.”

Kaworu cocked his head and waited as Shinji drank a bit of his coffee. After a moment or two, he spoke up again.

“I just really hate school. I’ve always hated it.”

“Why do you hate school?”

“I-I don’t know. It’s just awful. I’ve never fit in. I’ve always been small and weak, so I was no good at sports in high school. People knew who I was though because Asuka would drag me to popular kid parties all the time.” Shinji pushed his bangs out of his face and sighed at the memories. “But, you know how it is. People are mean in high school. I always got called a fag and stuff like that. I think I hated that the most.”

Kaworu felt the sides of his lips twitch up into a smile. A coping mechanism. Smile. Everything seems nicer when you’re smiling.

“You hate that the most?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s embarrassing. I don’t want to be called something like that—being known as the gay kid.”

Kaworu’s smile seemed to become fuller.

“What’s wrong with being gay?” A head tilt in the other direction. “You consider that to be an insult?”

Almost immediately, Shinji realized his mistake and became flustered again. His flush was especially bright.

“O-Oh—n-no—no that’s, that’s not what I meant. I—I don’t have anything against gay people.” He laughed nervously, but his furrowed eyebrows made it look like he was going to cry.

Kaworu bit his tongue from some particularly juicy sarcastic remark, reminding himself of his position and the confusion that is post-pubescent sexuality in such a world as we do, in fact, live in.

“Yet, you find it insulting to be viewed as such by your peers?”

“I—” The coffee cup went up to his face again until he was able to form a response. “I don’t know. I guess I was just scared that they might be right, and I didn’t even know it myself...or something. I mean, I don’t think I’m gay or anything—ha ha.”

It was funny, only because Kaworu had thought something similar when he was in high school. The fear of being different, of being othered by your peers about something uncontrollable. Shinji was awfully defensive, though, to the point where it boarded on comedy.

“I never quite understood why people are so fixated on sexuality. Gender has nothing to do with love.” Kaworu smiled quite innocently, of course he’d be that kind of loose, romantic type.

“I’m not homophobic or a-anything—I just, nevermind. Sorry.” His hands were trembling again. Why did he think it was a good idea to make him hot coffee when all he did was threaten to burn himself?

“Remember wha—”

Shinji bit his lip in resisting the urge to say sorry for saying sorry.

“—I just don’t want other people to see me like that. I’ve been called a faggot a lot of times. The least I need is more fuel for those flames. Heh.”

Kaworu held back his creeping sneer, barely sighing and taking a moment to pick out the words to say, to clear the awkward air. It would be far too invasive, too interpersonal to relate as though they were friends and create his own sympathy story as some lazy form of motivation. It would not allow Shinji to focus on his own resignations, just to distract him by having to consider his therapists' background. Kaworu was careful to maintain the proper balance of compassion and aloofness, detached interest, to foil Shinji's thoughts. To reflect back towards him with the necessary conditions for changing himself. It was more natural to Kaworu at this moment, but still sometimes difficult with touchy subjects.

He just happened to find himself saying, out loud, “Be who God wants you to be and you will set fire to the world.”

 

* * *

  

“I said I’m sorry. I don’t know why you’re reacting this way.”

“Y-you, narcissistic asshole! Piece of shit, dirty fucking homo!”

“You have no evidence...well, I guess the only things you lack are brains.”

“You liar! You know exactly what you’re doing! Doing nothing is the same as doing something!”

“I didn’t want to bring it up. It’s private.”

“Well, you should've told me. 'Cause I’ve been chasing you—I guess the rumors were true. You’re gross. I never want to see your face again.”

“Okay.”

Kaworu blinked a few times in disbelief when the locker door nearly slammed into his face. He took a moment to sigh, walking away from the recycling bin, in which he extinguished another pink letter marked with some basic shade of red lipstick he could recognize from other similar marks, with his hands his pockets and a nonchalant expression.

He made his way to his next class, gym, having mostly forgotten the embarrassing scene. Sitting at the corner of the men’s locker room, he felt the weight of the other boys’ cautious stares. Though he had always placed his belongings in a row in which no other boys shared physical education with him, he could still hear the obvious remarks and peeks from around the bleachers. He used to be upset about it, but now he thought it pretty amusing. He almost felt happy about receiving such  _special attention_  from his male peers, having an arsenal of witty clap-backs which nearly always made the target’s friends gasp and boaster about. All the meanwhile, Kaworu could just take in their ridiculous game and know how far more evolved he was than the average male pubescent. He accepted the absurd fact of his life that, though he need not lift a finger, he would become involved in others’ lives whether it be drama, jokes, rumors, or non-mutual love confessions. His phone buzzed in the shorts he laid across the bench behind him. It was the invitation to meet behind the school later that day.

A few weeks later, he was sitting in the dentist’s office, cringing at the buzz of the smoothing rotary, his small crown sufficed the causalities of that night. It tasted like pennies for four days.

 

* * *

  

"I’m leaving.”

“What do you mean—you’re leaving—? We spent all day putting together this get-together.”

“Your mother spent all day preparing for this, Nagisa—”

“I can’t stay here. If I stay here, I will get upset again. That may cause another emotional outburst and, before we know it, we’ll be screaming at each other again.”

“You’re being selfish—hey! Put that backpack down!”

“I’m staying over at a friend's house. I’ve learned that the best way to deal with familial conflicts like this is just to leave the situation. I’ll see you guys next weekend.”

“Why do you hate us so much?”

“I don’t hate you. I don’t want to make you more upset. I also do not want to say things I do not mean.”

All living things want to avoid pain.

“I just wish that it didn’t have to be this way. I wish you would try to consider my feelings. To accept me. I’ll see you later. I love you. Rei, please text me later.”

Rei’s blank stare looked somewhat more solemn as Kaworu closed the door slowly.

_Though other people can’t see it, I know that you hold an ocean of feelings behind your beautiful eyes. I will protect you with everything I have in me. You don’t have to worry about anything._

 

* * *

  

_I wish I had more energy to restrain myself. I hope that, someday, I’ll be able to look back at my experiences and laugh at how absurd it is. I wish I was normal. These are all empty thoughts anyway. It’s nice to see you, yeah. I had another fight. I didn’t want it to escalate. I’ll be staying over a night, you can drive me back to my dorm tomorrow morning. I have papers to do. I mustn’t get behind it. Thank you, I appreciate it. You didn’t have to get me anything! Twenty isn’t a birthday of any cultural significance, so I’m more than flattered._

 

* * *

 

_Another 3.8, 3.9, and so on and so on. Another diploma, honor society, and so on and so on. Yet, I feel as though I never really accomplished anything. It was just always expected of me to be “exceptional”. I dislike those words. There is nothing fundamentally different from me than from another person, I was simply fortunate to have parents with wealth and time to support my endeavors and whom also pushed me to succeed. I never found out if I was doing those things for myself, or so that I could try to keep those around me as content as possible in their intermingling co-dependence. It’s trivial matters anyway._

**_Are you sure that you weren't the one that needed their approval?_ **

_At least I can help people this way. I feel better when I’m helping people. So many people are suffering in this world. Most of it is due to a misunderstanding—their words are lost in communication. I don’t think it has to be this way. It doesn’t have to be this way._

**_So you feel as though by taking on others problems you don't have to worry your mind with those of your own?_ **

_Compared to other people, my problems are insignificant._

 

* * *

 

Kaworu had taken away Shinji's coffee, again. He really must stop offering it to him. 

“You also need to learn to allow yourself to accept praise.”

“Y-yeah. It’s just...difficult. I’m not used to it.”

“Do you feel as though your parents praised you enough?”

“I-I don’t know. I guess, I mean, I suppose not. No. Well, that’s not true. My mother was always very supportive of me, she kind of smothered me actually. My father is...harder to impress. He’s been more critical since…” Shinji felt a hard lump in his throat. It was so difficult for him to actually say. He swallowed the sudden wetness and just let the words roll off.

“I don’t know if I ever said this out loud to you. I want you to know though…”

“You don’t have to force yourself, Shinji”

“No, it’s okay. It’s important.”

“I’m listening.”

Shinji gripped his thigh tighter, repressing his initial instincts to cover his face and hide his despair. He really wanted Nagisa to know more about him. He wanted to know more about Nagisa too.

“My mom died last summer. It’s been...so difficult. Everything changed then. Everything. I’m not over it in the slightest. My father isn’t either. But why does he always have to show his grief by acting so damn cold to me?! I don’t know.”

“Take a deep breath, Shinji. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I hurt myself enough.”

“Shinji, I’m empathetic to your loss. I can’t imagine the sadness which has weighed down on you since then. You’re very brave for revealing this to me.”

"I don't think I'm brave at all. I'm more of a coward than anything. I'm always running away from my problems."

“Shinji, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. You hurt your own self-efficacy by ignoring your achievements, particularly the small steps towards your socio-psychological integration.”

“I can’t understand you when you talk in jargon, Nagisa”.

“Right, sorry. Let me rephrase my statement. You have an inferiority complex.”

“Inferiority complex?”

Nagisa adjusted his glasses and set down his notes, his earnesty depicted through his staunch expression.

“Yes, you’re extremely fixated on the ways in which you lack. There is some ideal which you cannot reach or recognize, yet you continuously compare yourself to it. Making yourself small and insignificant within your own life allows you to cope with this discrepancy. Somewhere along the line, you learned to be helpless in the face of your internal representation of a cruel and cold world. I’ve been receiving impressions from you that this is correlated with your fraternal conflicts.”

(Did I say too much? I would hope to think that at this point along the relationship that Shinji’s feelings would have transferred to me, and therefore we may begin to start deeper analysis into the depth of his internal conflicts.)

Shinji shuttered, it was terrifying to consider those aspects of himself. Deep down inside, he knew they were always true. He couldn’t acknowledge it. He denied his own self-awareness. Revelations hit him like a brick.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Forgive me if I’m being blunt, Shinji. I hope that this way I’ve read you speaks to your inner knowing. I believe that you hold within yourself the truths of your own existence. The truth is painful. But we cannot continuously deny our self-truths, least we become further blinded by the urgency to protect our egos.”

Kaworu paused to give Shinji a chance to respond, but the boy stayed silent.

“You're afraid. You're so used to being in pain, carrying your burdens by yourself, that reaching out to another and receiving kindness is difficult for you. But, you are worthy of empathy."

“Empathy?”

“Yes, the therapeutic relationship is uniquely suited to bring about the conditions for change. Unconditional love, congruence, and empathy.”

Shinji's heart skipped a beat. He never thought he'd get to hear those words from Nagisa's mouth. “I don't know what love is.”

“I'm sorry, let me clarify. It's subjective. However, in my humanistic viewpoint, I'd say it's the ability to look at another person and acknowledge them for their uniqueness completely, whilst seeing them as another being granted with inalienable rights and justices.”

“You make it sound so poetic...I don't think like that. I never really thought about it.” Shinji paused, finally having the courage to stare into Nagisa's piercing eyes. “You make me really happy too,” he smiled.

It was a small smile, one that he didn’t try to hide.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting patiently, both autumnmycat and I have been busy with finals. This chapter was shorter as  
> a result, but we wanted to get it out as to now lag behind (the other chapters being around ~10,000 words, this one being ~5,000 words). We hope to make more progress on this story over the summer. Your comments and critques are very encouraging to us!


	5. Narcissistic Object Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I called my love false love; but what said he then?  
> If I court moe women, you’ll couch with moe men."
> 
> \- Othello

It was different getting ready for a party with guys than it was with Asuka.

Girls spent hours deciding what to wear (“I can’t wear this top because I just wore it last week.”), doing their makeup (“I’m going for a smokey eye, what do you think?”), complaining about how bad they looked (“Oh my god. I’ve gained so much weight this semester!”), and complementing each other (“What are you talking about? You look so hot.”).

“God dammit!” Asuka held her eye, grasping for a Q-tip whilst nearly knocking over her eyeshadow palette on the floor. Mari caught it before it could shatter, her toothbrush protruding out of her mouth in multi-tasked acrobatics.

“It’s in my fucking eye! How the fuck do they do it in those tutorials?! Fuck eyeliner! Fucking sharp, bullshit. It’s some bullshit patience and stead—”

Mari just spit in the sink and handed Asuka a makeup removing wipe. Asuka wrapped it around her nail and slowly attempted to slice the edge of the smudged eyeliner. It was pointless because her eyes were already burning from her third attempt, and she resigned to taking off her entire face.

“What are you doing? You looked so cute, nyan~. It’s a waste of make-up, y’know?”

“I just want it to look perfect. Fuck those beauty gurus and their bullshit. Ugh, gross.” 

Asuka nearly jumped when Mari put a hand over her shoulder. Mari turned Asuka’s head to the mirror gently, her hand under the other's chin.

“I can’t find the imperfect, can you help me?”

“Ugh…”

“Princess, you always obsess over such little things. See, here.” Mari handed her the dampened makeup sponge that had fallen in the sink in Asuka’s previous outburst. “Just blend what you took off together with the rest, don’t mess up the other work you did just ‘cause one part isn’t perfect.” 

Asuka jerked away from Mari’s personal invasion. “We’ll be late anyway…hmph.”

“See, you can’t even tell that you messed it around. Now, eyeliner. Let me show you, I’m pretty good at it. There just a trick to it. Here, face me.”

“Ow, I don’t like my eyes being poked.”

“I’m sorry, I have to pull your lid so I can get it straight. Pft—Straight? This is the only thing I can get straight I swear, hahaha.”

“Just get it over with.”

“Mhm,” Mari sang. Asuka could smell the mint on her breath, felt herself shiver.

“Am I too close? Is it making you feel _strange?_ Hmmm....I just need to be closer to see what I’m doing, you see. Right~”

Asuka would roll her eyes if Mari wasn’t sliding the black ink across her lashes. She found it difficult to stay still, to be the one invaded.

“Alright, ah! What do you think? Totally perfect, right? Mmm? Now, the final touch.”

Mari stole a peck off her cheek.

Asuka’s rogue suddenly appeared darker than it had been upon application. “Thanks…” 

“Nothing is perfect. Just try to get there as close as possible, like you, of course.” Mari smiled as Asuka rubbed her smitten cheek.

 

* * *

 

The guys, well, they don’t really do any of that.

Shinji couldn’t even describe it as “getting ready” because Kensuke and Toji were already dressed and lounging around Toji’s apartment, drinking beer, when he showed up. There was a game on the TV. Neither one of them seemed very invested in it.

“Hey, Shinji,” Kensuke said as Shinji made his way into the living room. 

“Hey.”

“Ay, ya decided to show up after all!” Toji beamed, raising a beer can in the air to show his enthusiasm. He reached down into the box next to him and pulled out a can for Shinji before throwing at him. Shinji was relieved when he actually caught it. He didn’t particularly like beer (especially the kind college kids drink), but alcohol is alcohol, and Shinji was not particularly picky when it came to _how_ he decided to become intoxicated.

Shinji sat on a chair adjacent to the couch the other boys sat on.

“Yeah, I needed a change of pace. Staring at my dorm room wall is only so exciting,” he quipped, but he couldn’t quite tell if he was joking or not.

“Oh, yeah, I remember those days. Livin’ in the dorms is a real pain in the neck. Can’t do anything ya want like ya can at when you got yer own place.” 

Kensuke broke in. 

“I don’t know, I still drink in my dorm. My RA is cool, so he doesn’t give a shit.”

“Yeah, same,” Shinji said, cracking open his can. “The University just wants to cover their ass, but the other students don’t care.”

“Ah, man, maybe my RA just had a stick up ‘er ass. I was always gettin’ busted for shit.”

“You’re a Junior, right, Toji? How do you know Kensuke?”

“Eh, we got a class together. GEs don’t care if yer a Freshie or not, everyone’s gotta do ‘em.” Toji grinned after taking a sip of beer. “Aida’s a little asshole—I’m, like, the little angel on his shoulder.” 

Kensuke scoffed, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees.

“Like you’re such a good samaritan? Don’t make me laugh. You made me chug five beers in a row the last time we went out.”

Toji chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “Nobody said I was perfect. I just get a little excited with a couple of shots in me, y’know.”

“It’s all fun and games until someone throws up in the street.” 

“No kidding,” Shinji laughed nervously. He still hadn’t been to another party since that one faithful night at the beginning of the semester. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been drinking. He was just doing it alone because if he got sick and emotional, he could just cry into his pillow instead of someone’s shoulder.

Maybe his slightly off-kilter smile caught Toji’s attention, or maybe he was just trying to be nice.

“How’ve you been, Shinji?”

“Fine,” he lied. “What about you?”

“Bah, busy as hell. Finals are gonna kick my ass.”

“Same,” Kensuke sighed, tossing back the rest of his beer and signaling for someone to throw him another. Toji obliged before offering his own grunt of discontent.

“Hmm, it’s whatever. I’ve been lookin’ forward to this party for weeks. I don’t know why, but I just wanna get hammered, y’know?”

Shinji could relate, but also, getting hammered was _bad_ —he didn’t need this night to go up in flames. He didn’t think what was left of his ego could take it. He didn’t need all of his friends to see him fall apart again. God, that would be terrible. How much could he drink before it was too much? He didn’t know anymore, the lines had blurred to where he felt sober until he wasn’t, and then, he was like a fish out of water—floundering and gasping for air, waiting for death to take away the shame—

“Hey, Shinji, you alright there, bud?”

“Huh?”

Toji and Kensuke had a sort of vacant look on their faces. It was probably from the combination of worry and intoxication.

“You’re lookin’ a bit pale, there.”

Oh. He was freaking out. Great.

“Uh, sorry.”

“Got anything going on?” Kensuke pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“No, no. I just haven’t been to a party since the last one, and that was a disaster, so I’m nervous, I guess.”

Toji leaned back into the couch cushions, flashing a tiny grin to try to break the tension.

“Well, if you start to get too shitty, we’ll let you know. Got any tells?”

“Um. I don’t know, I guess I talk too much.”

“That’s not really a tell so much as a side effect of getting drunk.”

Shinji’s self-deprecating laugh would have probably made the two boys feel uneasy, but they were too many beers in to care. “If I start crying, get me out of there.”

“That, we can do.”

 

* * *

 

Hikari gawked as Mari and Asuka dumped two gigantic bottles of vodka in a cooler. While she was no novice at the art of punch, those two seemed to be getting off on the pending misfortune of others.

“I hope you’re planning to put in something other than alcohol,” she muttered, wincing as the sharp chemical smell wafted through the kitchen.

“Of course. Do you think we don’t know what we’re doing?” Mari said in that sing-song tone of hers.

Hikari just raised an eyebrow.

“We’ve got loads of stuff,” Asuka added, opening the fridge to reveal a myriad of juices, sodas, and miscellaneous mixers. “Don’t worry. Our punch always tastes good.”

“It’s not the taste I’m worried about.”

“Oh, don’t be so uptight. Everything always works out in the end~” While Asuka dumped some sort of red drink into the vat, Mari was fishing around the freezer for something. “Where in the world did I put it, hmmm, hmmm…” 

“What...are you looking for?”

“Oh! Here it is!” Mari pulled out a bottle, presenting it to Hikari as if she were a contestant on a game show, and Mari was the skinny blonde in a blue evening gown. “My secret weapon.” A mischievous smile.

“Mari! Everclear? Are you serious?” Hikari exclaimed, crossing her arms. “You’re going to kill someone!”

“Lighten up,” Asuka rolled her eyes, grabbing the bottle from Mari and adding it to the concoction. “No one’s going to _die_ ,” a roll of the eyes, “and if they do, you can blame us.”

“Whatever, I’m not cleaning up the vomit.” 

“Ahh, don’t worry, leave it to us!” Mari’s giggles bordered on malevolent.

Hikari couldn’t help but think that Mari and Asuka were a dangerous duo, at least where party preparations were concerned.

 

* * *

 

When the Three Musketeers rolled up, the party was already in full swing.

Disgusting, Shinji couldn’t help but think. It was always the same, every party was the same. Kids pretending they’re grownups, throwing back poison until their minds and bodies gave out. He was no different, and maybe that was the worst part.

(Being above it was great and all, but Shinji was painfully aware that he wasn’t.) 

At least, it was nice knowing that Kensuke and Toji had his back. A little buffer, if you will.

But, even that buffer couldn’t stop a pair of arms from crushing him.

“Puppy Boy!!”

Before he knew it, he was smashed into a rather generous chest, the smell of cinnamon and liquor strangling him almost as much as her boobs were. Shinji struggled to break free, but Mari was (unfortunately) stronger than him, and the chuckles of Suzahara and Aida were enough to cause a furious flush to bloom on his cheeks.

He hadn’t expected her to be greeting people at the door.

“Let go of me, Mari,” was heard from somewhere inside her ridiculous Christmas sweater. 

“Oh, alright.”  

The boy stumbled backward, huffing in embarrassment that he was trying to play off as anger. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Forgive me,” she gushed. “I was just so excited. I haven’t seen you in ages!” Shinji rolled his eyes. “Well, how do I look?” Spinning, Mari showed off her sweater (it was a forest green with little sparkly pompoms sewn on top of stitched Christmas trees, the words “Merry Christmas!” were written in gaudy cursive across her abdomen), black shorts and fishnets, and bright red suede pumps.  

“Uhh…” Kensuke and Toji weren’t sure how to respond, but Shinji knew he didn’t have to be nice.

“You look like a Christmas disaster, Mari.”

With a flash of a peace sign and a wink, she said, “That was the plan.”

Through the throngs of people emerged another bright red disaster. 

“Hey, Mari, what the fuck are you doing, we have to change the punch—” When Asuka realized who Mari was talking to, her expression hardened. “Well, if it isn’t the Three Stooges,” she snarled, making sure to shoot Shinji a particularly icy look.

“Oh, Princess, don’t be like that. We’re all going to have lots of fun, isn’t that right?”

Mari’s arm across Asuka’s shoulders drew attention to the fact that Asuka was in a pretty similar outfit, but her sweater was red and sported several large and bedazzled poinsettias.

“Holy shit,” Toji couldn’t stop himself from muttering.

“You got something to say?” Asuka growled. 

Toji’s hands went up in front of his face defensively. “Er, uh, no, I mean—”

“Don’t give Asuka flack for the outfit. It was my idea.”

“I’m assuming you forced her into it,” Shinji laughed nervously.

This seemed to be the final straw for Asuka because she grabbed Mari’s sleeve and led her away, muttering about refilling the jungle juice or something. 

All three boys sighed, the tension of interacting with such spirited women falling away. They were glad that they had decided to bring their case of beer so they didn’t have to go straight to the kitchen and deal with _all of that_ again.

 

* * *

 

The couch was fairly soft, Shinji noted idly, drinking his gross College Kid beer in a daze. Kensuke was sitting next to him, playing a game on his phone. Toji had run off to hang out with Hikari.

Parties felt kind of like what he imagined a beehive to be like. There was constant motion, people bounding across the room, groups slowly shifting so bodies could enter and leave, talking and singing and laughing and hollering accumulating into a momentous buzz that felt overwhelming at times and weirdly soothing at others. People watching was probably the only upside of going to Greek Life parties. It certainly was always a spectacle.

“Hey, stupid.”

Shinji’s eyes tore away from the place they had been fixed on the wall and found himself looking at bright blue eyes and fiery red hair. 

“Asuka—?” 

Before he could get anything else out, she was shoving a solo cup in his hand.

“Sorry for snapping at you guys earlier.”

“Huh?” Asuka? Apologizing? “Is Mari making you do this?”

“Wow, no? I’m not _always_ a bitch.” A part of Shinji wanted to laugh, but he felt it was best to suppress that urge. “Hosting parties just makes me crazy. Everyone keeps tearing through the punch, and then bitching when it’s out, and I want to punch someone’s teeth in.” Asuka huffed and took a long drink.

Shinji looked down at the liquid. Red. As always. 

“What’s in this?”

“Dunno, Mari made this batch.”

“That’s not encouraging—”

Kensuke had taken the opportunity to pluck the cup out of Shinji’s hand and steal a swig of it. He visibly flinched. 

“Whoa, buddy, this shit is strong.”

“Thanks for your much-needed input,” Asuka said, sarcasm dripping from her words and into her cup. She stole it back and returned it to its rightful owner. “Yeah, just as a word of caution, it’s probably going to knock you off your feet.”

Shinji wasn’t sure how to feel about this. Jungle juice always posed this dilemma. Getting fucked up was great, but getting fucked up was awful. His first sip made him air on the side of getting fucked up was great.

“You’re exaggerating, Kensuke. I’ve had worse.” 

“I don’t know, maybe I just value my liver more.”

Asuka snorted but didn’t seem very amused. She had already started to turn away. “If the tub runs out again, get Mari to do it. I want to dance or something.” This left Shinji and Kensuke by themselves again.

Unlocking his phone, Kensuke said, “Man, I can’t believe you used to date her.”

Shinji felt his patience dwindling.

“Yeah, I can’t believe you and I are friends, either, now that you mention it.”

“Ouch.”

 

* * *

 

How much time had passed?

The clock seemed to have moved forward, but Shinji felt stuck in an almost endless loop of moving between rooms, dodging Mari and Asuka, finding Kensuke and Toji and losing them again, and drinking sickly sweet alcohol.  

(Did people actually enjoy parties or were they all just too shy to admit they hated it just as much as he did?)

How many cups of punch had he had? Two. No, three. Wow, that’s a lot. Knowing himself, Shinji knew that he was beginning to enter something of a danger zone.  

It was the same thing as last time. No amount of drinking made this enjoyable. That’s why he kept mindlessly tossing them back. Maybe that was a bit of a problem. He hated to think so.

(With an atmosphere such as the one he was currently in, it was almost expected of him to drink excessively. Blacking out was a common occurrence. Many people drank until they threw up every week, sometimes multiple times a week. So, who was to say Shinji’s habits were wrong or bad or anything else? Everyone did it.)

A voice in his head that sounded eerily like Nagisa’s commented, (Well, are you sure that you aren’t using other’s behavior as a mask for your own problems?)

Ugh. He did not want to think about _therapy_ right now. What a god awful topic to get stuck on while he was supposed to be having _fun._  

Shinji rubbed his eyes with his free hand, trying to clear out the voices that belonged to his brain but were not his own. When he managed to cement himself back in his own body, he found he was leaning against a wall in the living room, zoning out. Looking down, the red concoction in his cup was only half empty.

He was fine. This was all probably fine.

(The key word here is “probably.”) 

The crowd shifted as the door cracked open and welcomed a group of four upperclassmen (marked by their deep-sunken eyes, which have seen many late night cram sessions and scratchy chins in trading in their personal hygiene for credits). One stood out by his peculiar upkeep of appearances. Shinji couldn’t help but overhear the rather blatant gossip of the girls behind them. Something about that guy, of course. Pathetic. Shallow.  

Shinji was ready to exit the obnoxious situation which would ultimately develop once upperclassmen entered a frat party, marking it as lit as fuck. He could already imagine the shirts coming off, the kegs that would soon be wheeled in and— 

Just as he was turning, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He flinched.

“E-Excuse me?”

“Shinji, I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

That voice, no mistaking it.  

“N-Nagisa?” 

“Mhm.”

It was the first time Shinji saw Kaworu outside of therapy. He dressed about the same, except he traded in his button-up for a v-neck t-shirt and leather coat. God, does he always have to look so damn effortlessly cool? It’s unfair, so fucking unfair. Shinji took a sip of his drink, nearly spilling it as he found his hands trembling again.

“I-I’m sorry, Nagisa. It’s really weird to see you like this, I think I should go and—”

Shinji let out an embarrassing squeaky sound when Nagisa put his hand on his shoulder firmly. Shinji’s gaze shot up, and he couldn’t help but notice his half-lidded expression, cheeks flushed in ways that he fantasized about and thought he would never have the awe of seeing in real life.

“Please, call me Kaworu. I’m not an old man.” He giggled in an uncharacteristic fashion (from Shinji’s imagination and experience), almost relishing in Shinji’s awkward reactions and shock.

“K-Kaworu, what are you doing here?”

“I met with some peers and somehow found myself bar hopping along with them. Eventually, we found that all of them were closed, so we drove around until we found this party knowing how it is on Saturdays and such and such. I haven’t seen the light of day for a long time, just doing my residency and assisting Dr. Akagi’s research.”

Shinji just heard “bar-hopping” and the rest of Kaworu’s words fell off, Shinji himself having no idea how graduate school works and had no interest or attentive capacity to understand it at this moment. Therefore, he was quite relieved to be saved by Mari.  

“Hey Shinji, would—Oh my god. Well, if it isn’t the Prince!” Mari pushed Shinji out of the way and offered her arms open. Before Kaworu could respond, she was already gripping his waist tightly and giggling to herself. Kaworu smiled to be polite, meanwhile being caught off guard (batting his lashes over widened eyes), being unfamiliar with women’s displays of affection and friendship. This display pissed Shinji off for some reason. When Mari released her hug, Kaworu took a sharp inhale.  

“Ah, Mari. I haven’t seen you forever, not since last summer, correct? Are you working in the psychology department this year again?”

“Hmmm, nah. I’m too busy. Thesis and stuff, you know. It’s such a pain.” Mari put her finger-gun to her head and cocked her head back.

“Haha, you’re being too dramatic.”

“Jeez, is it possible for you to stop being so uptight? I see you haven’t changed.”

Kaworu smiled in that way he always did, eyes squinting and lips curling.

“It wouldn’t kill you to be a little more uptight, yourself, Mari.”

Mari cackled, slapping Kaworu on the back.

“Sassy, tonight, are we? I like it,” she smirked. “And, I’m fine with the way I am, Prince. Life’s too short to not be a slut. You know something about that, don’t you?”

Shinji felt like he was dying—having a heart attack or something. He absolutely did not want to have the image of Kaworu being a slut in his head while he was right in front of him. He was pretty sure his entire body was turning red.

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

He turned away in an attempt to escape, but Mari was too quick for him. She had her arm around him now, gripping him so tight that his drink almost leaped out of his hand.

“Where’re you going, Puppy Boy? Did I embarrass you? You’re always so sensitive.”

Shinji wished for the sweet release of death.

“N-No, I’m not embarrassed,” he grunted, still trying to look anywhere but the hazy look on Kaworu’s face.

“Liar~!” Mari sang, swinging her arm out so she could pull Kaworu closer. “Ah, both my cute boys together in one place. A real miracle, yessiree.”

Shinji had not expected to ever be in such close proximity with Kaworu’s face, but with both Shinji and Kaworu in each of Mari’s arms, they were so close that Shinji wanted to crawl out of his skin.

(Lashes as white as snow battling over red rubies. A drunken flush peaking out from such otherwise pale skin. Silver hair just ever so out of place due to Mari’s roughhousing. A look of surprise caused by the sudden closeness.)

Holy shit, Kaworu was so fucking gorgeous.

Shinji snapped out of his daze and wrestled against Mari’s grip in order to stand up straight, turn, and rush away, calling out, “You’re _ridiculous_ , Mari,” as he fled.

He couldn’t get away fast enough, and he heard her say, “Well, he’s not wrong,” along with Kaworu’s chuckle in response.

 

* * *

 

“Only the best for my Prince,” Mari hummed, handing a plastic cup filled with a combination of who knows what. It was very red, so there was that. Didn’t bright red signify danger in the wild? 

“Goodness, I’m flattered,” he said, taking the cup from her grasp. “Although, the way it smells suggests you’re trying to kill me.”

“I would _never_ dream of it.” The hand she pressed to her chest indicated faux sincerity. “You’re just a riot when you’re wasted.”

“I’m not here to get wasted—”

Mari couldn’t be Mari without invading people’s personal space. The both of them leaned on the kitchen counter, but she went out of her way to get close enough to him that the sides of their hips and shoulders touched.

“Then, why are you here?” All of her smiles seemed strangely accusatory. 

“Well, half of it is that I was dragged along and the other is that I wanted to say hello to my lovely friend,” Kaworu smirked.

“Oh, that’s bullshit, and you know it, Princey.” 

“Not at all. You know how hectic school can be. I just needed a break.”

“Uh-huh.” Mari took a drink, and Kaworu followed suit, wincing at the astringent taste. “What? Too strong for you?” 

Kaworu smiled again. “You know that I always like a challenge.”

Mari laughed, slapping Kaworu’s back, much how she had done in front of Shinji.

“If nothing else, it’s comforting that you never change. Can’t say the same for Puppy Boy. Speaking of which, how do you know him, anyway?” Kaworu’s smile seemed to twinge a bit, but anyone other than Mari probably wouldn’t have picked up on it. She shot him her own look of curiosity, eyes squinting and lips curling slightly. “What? Is it weird?”

“Oh, no, not especially. He’s just one of my clients.”

“Oh ho ho! A sudden turn of events!” Her free hand went to her cheek in surprise. “How _juicy_ , you must know a lot about him. No wonder he was acting like such a disaster around you.”

Kaworu took a longer drink from his cup, internally cursing Mari for being as invasive as she was. Of course, she would eat this situation up. She thrived on this shit. 

“I can’t say I know much. To be honest, he’s much more guarded than I’m used to with other clients. I can’t help but think about how he must be doing throughout the week, between the times we see each other.” 

“Oh?”

Kaworu probably shouldn’t have been saying anything, as it was an invasion of Shinji’s privacy to be talking about their sessions, but the alcohol made his mouth looser, and Mari had a certain way of prying that was hard to resist.

“Did they teach you about the private Hippocratic Oath in Ethics 103, my dear? Shinji’s private concerns aren’t your business, anyway. ” 

“Oh, come on. I’m not asking for details, I just think it’s interesting how he acted around you.”

Kaworu shrugged with a tired sigh.

“He’s always like that in our sessions—just very nervous. He insists he’s not afraid of me, but I’m not so sure. I wish I could figure out what it is that bothers him so much.” Kaworu’s pensive expression was out of place for the young man, but it was probably his genuine sincerity that struck Mari as most odd.

“So, let me get this straight. He’s constantly nervous, stuttering, and blushing around you?” 

“More or less. He fidgets and seems uncomfortable with himself. It’s, as you’d say, a violation of patient’s right to privacy to say anymore—if you do know what that means. Either way, let’s end this conversation.” 

Mari’s ragged sigh was almost as impressive as her eyeroll.

“Really, Kaworu? Are you that fucking blind, or are you just being intentionally dense?”

He turned to look at her, cocking his head and an eyebrow. His hair fell lazily to the side, and even Mari couldn’t help but admire how Kaworu always seemed to look endearing, even when he wasn’t trying to. She got in front of him, jabbing a finger into his chest as she spoke.

“Shinji thinks you’re a Grade A Cutie.”

Something about the way his lips pursed led her to believe that Kaworu had figured this out already.

“Hmm.”

“I mean, have you seen you? You’re fucking beautiful, and that’s coming from my gay ass.”

“I was afraid you would say something like that.”

“Oh, is it really so bad? Shinji’s cute, too.”

“That’s not the problem, Mari, and you know it.” Kaworu’s face seemed to be growing more guilty. He was taking a tip from to Ikari Handbook and shoving a drink in his face to try to maintain his usual air of aloofness. 

“Okay, so you’re his therapist, so what? Worst comes to worst you can just refer him to someone else.” Mari didn’t seem to be making Kaworu feel any better.

“You’ve confused my concern with infatuation. I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re suggesting I hook up with a client. You do realize how ethically and morally reprehensible that is, don’t you?”

“Be a slut, do whatever you want,” Mari laughed. “I think the most interesting part of this is that the oh-so-virtuous and altruistic Kaworu Nagisa seems to be entertaining the idea.”

The worst part about being friends with Mari was that she knew his tells, and his lack of witty comebacks was a good indicator that she was picking apart the hints from his subconscious.

“Ah, so I’m right, aren’t I? You want to smash that.”

“Mari, would it kill you to stay out of other people’s private matters? I suppose you lack not only decency but also an understanding of professional boundaries.”

She put the back of her hand to her forehead and feigned weakness. “Oh, yes, Prince. I would simply _die_.” Snickering, she regained her composure, leaning forward so she could whisper in his ear, “Shinji and Kaworu sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G—”

Kaworu softly pushed her away from him.

“I see you have not matured past the mindset of a ten-year-old.”

“Nope! Growing up is for losers.” To drive the point home, she pushed her nose up with her middle finger and stuck her tongue out at him.

Finally, Kaworu’s smug yet slightly annoyed smile made its appearance. “I see. Well, I may be a loser, but at least I know when to quit.” 

“Oh, Princey, you never know when to quit. And, that’s why I love you.”

 

* * *

 

“I had this dream the other night. I know I had one, but I can’t remember much of the details.”

“Is there anything you remember?”

“I know I was someplace familiar.”

Shinji paused, looking towards the clock hanging in the corner of Nagisa’s office. The ticking was suddenly audible the more he focused on it. Nagisa tapped his pen on his notebook in harmony with the soft ticking. Shinji shifted his eyes back to earth.  

“I was walking alone in the forest behind my backyard...I don’t remember much, like I said.”

“Shinji, why don’t you try to free associate.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Nagisa?”

“Take me with you on your stroll through the forest. Just close your eyes and imagine you’re back there. What do you see?”

“It’s very foggy. It’s nearly sunset or dawn. I can’t really tell. I can barely see some light between the tree tops, yet I can still see what’s ahead of me.”

“Try closing your eyes, it may help you visualize the scenario. Do you think you can picture the light within your imagination and follow it?”

“I can try. I’m stepping on the grass, I’m about to lose sight of my house. I passed the ropes where an old tire swing is hung. It’s covered with mold and swings gently with the breeze. The grass is so soft. It feels like I’m sinking. But, it’s pleasant. It’s comfortable.” 

Kaworu couldn’t help but notice how peaceful Shinji looked once he let his eyes relax, how much progress had been made so he could see Shinji in these rare moments of comfort around him. It made his chest warm. _So pure._  

“What’s ahead of you?”

“It’s difficult for me to walk. It’s as though I’m looking through a camera with a low frame rate. I can see myself moving in slow motion. It’s like I’m barely gliding over the ground.” 

“That’s okay. Your descriptions are clear. It helps me understand while listening to you.”

“Thank you, Nagisa.”

“You’re so kind, Shinji. Do you think you can tell me what happens then?”

“I go over the wooden bridge under the dried up brook, and I think that something happened here.” 

“Something happened?”

“Yeah, it’s like...as I go forward, everything's starting to die. With every movement, things start shifting into decay. I’m finally at a lake.” 

“What's around you?”

“It’s as though there was a forest fire. There’s ashes everywhere. It almost looks like it's snowing, but it's just ash. When I step, the ground crumbles beneath my feet.” 

“What’s behind you?”

“Scattered trees. I can’t even see the canopy I just walked through to get here.”

“What’s in front of you?”

“It’s still the lake. Wait, it’s weird. No, when I step back it kind of...Looks like a retina.”

“A retina?”

“I mean, like the colored part of an eye. A cornea? It’s red and purple. It’s hard to describe.”

“Can you get a closer look?”

“Yeah. I’m stepping near the edge. It looks like it’s still water. But it’s so clear, I can see the bottom. It’s a black pit, the pupil. I want to try to step into it.”

“Go on.”

“Wait, there’s something bubbling under the surface. I just put my foot in, and then the other. It’s like something invisible is closing in on me.”

“Keep watching. You’re doing good.”

“Someone’s hair, head. A torso. It’s peeking out of the water. I can’t see their lower body. When they get closer, no. Wait. It’s like he’s climbing out of the water as though it was solid. When he gets up, he just kind of...materializes. He’s standing on the water.” 

“What does he look like? Do you recognize him?” 

“He’s tall. It’s hard to tell how old he is. He could be anywhere from 14 to 30. It’s weird. _He’s stark naked._  It’s almost like he’s glowing, but he’s just really pale. _Like you._ His eyes are unnatural. _They’re red like yours._ His hair is really pale too, so shiny. _Silver, like you._ Just the reflection of the moon. Wait. The moon is really weird. It’s like, oozing something. It looks like blood. It’s as if I could touch it. It’s disgusting.”

“Try to focus on the boy again.” 

“I’ll try. It’s distracting. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re doing fine, Shinji.” 

“He has this outreached hand to me. Like he wants me to come over. But, I’m scared. I feel like something horrible is going to happen.”

“Just do what feels natural. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I don’t expect anything of you. But, the information you’re giving me is helpful.”

“Right. I think I’m just going to watch. But, he’s walking towards me. He says my name. He holds my wrist and pulls me on top of the water. He seems nice. I think I can trust him. I feel better now. When he does, it’s like I’m sinking. I’m sinking in the water. I can breathe still. He’s there. We’re standing on the pupil. It’s pitch black all around us. He kneels down and steps in the water of the pit. His arms are around the ledge. I’m just watching. There’s something falling from the ceiling. Ashes? No, it’s petals.”

“Petals?”

“Yeah, it's like when they touch the water of the black pool, they turn into pink petals. I feel like I really want to go closer.” _I want to touch him. I want to touch you. I miss you. You’re so perfect._

Shinji gulped and coughed. He nearly choked on his spit. Nagisa handed him a glass of water. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I don’t remember anything more. I think…”

Shinji was silent for a minute before Nagisa cleared the air.

“I’m looking forward to _seeing_ you again. You can come back there with me anytime. I told you, we’ll meet again. You don’t have to cry. I’ll see you soon.” He knows everything.

 

* * *

 

How long can he keep it inside?

Stuttering, shaking. That’s all he did anymore. When did it start? 

Seventh grade. The kids turned mean. No longer was he just another kid, carefree and happy—now he was a faceless stranger lost in the throngs of students. There was a certain disconnect between the kids and the teachers. He no longer felt protected and the others knew it.

He couldn’t tell anyone. Not about the names and not about the punches to the gut. It’s not like anyone cared or anything.

“Shinji, your mother went through all this trouble to make breakfast for us, and you’re not even going to touch it?”

A fluttering in his chest made his hands shake. He hid them under the table.

“I don’t feel good.”

“If you don’t eat now, you’re going to do poorly in class.”

His father’s eyes looked at him from over his newspaper. They weren’t cold, they were just analytical. They couldn’t understand why his son seemed to be acting so strange lately. 

“I know,” he murmured, doing his best to pick up his fork without making a scene.

“Oh, don’t be so hard on him, dear. Eggs heat up nicely, so we can always save them.”

She was right, but even if she was wrong, Gendo Ikari could never say ‘no’ to his beautiful wife. He had placed her up on the highest shelf of the kitchen cabinet where no one could touch her—where she had nowhere to go but down. However, at that time, no one knew that she would eventually fall and shatter into one million mom-pieces.

Yui floated over to her son and placed a hand on his back. “Are you alright, sweetie?” 

Shinji took a bite of dry wheat toast and nodded.

“Don’t push yourself too hard. If you don’t feel well, you can stay home.” 

“He’s missed too many days already.”

Shinji shook his head, putting a bite of cold, unsalted egg in his mouth. Between chews he said, “No, it’s alright. I’ll be fine.”

After all, it was never going to change.

“Oof—!”

His head collided with metal. He saw white, tasted pennies. For a second, he wondered if he was going to pass out, but by high school, bullies knew how much was enough to get them into trouble. And, a small body slumping to the ground was one of them.

Shinji’s vision cleared, but the kids that tormented him were faceless. He didn’t know them. They’re stupid jocks, they had never said a word to him other than (that word), the one that made his insides twist up and his face flush and his eyes burn. They went at him again, fist grabbing his shirt and slamming him forcefully against the locker. This one hurts less, but only because they probably hit him too hard the last time. 

If his teachers noticed his bruises, they didn’t say anything. 

( _It’s not fair, it’s not fair. Why me? I never did anything wrong. Is it my fault I’m small and weak? Is it my fault I’m a coward? I don’t know how I ended up here. I don’t know how things got like this._ )

He wanted to fight back, but he physically couldn’t. The other kids could pummel him to the ground in a second, and it would take all of Shinji’s mental and physical strength to take down one guy let alone a group of them. The only other option was to get used to being scared.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons why he always felt stuck.

Maybe he had just always been afraid of getting hurt. 

One slam and he’s out of his body. He’s looking across the brick walls, barely peeking out of the mob’s vision and nearly robbing his presence with each cracking smack of head against pavement. He’s watching the events unfold from across the yard.  He can see his own body convulse with that slam, his head falling downward as his back slides against the wall. The other boys lose interest, spit in his direction and clear out. A few bystanders stop whispering and gasp loudly when the head leaning against the bricks coughs on their bloody tooth, now flying across the pavement. A clot of blood drips from his nose and falls on his pressed white shirt, expanding its stain throughout. Through heavy pants, wet gulping, dried tears, he sees through Shinji.

Shinji holds his breath.

Red eyes.

 

* * *

 

Things were starting to get a bit hazy again. 

(Oh no. _Oh no. Shinji, no. You cannot black out at this party. You absolutely_ cannot. _Not with Nagisa here._ )

Okay, okay, deep breaths. No need to jump all the way to worst case scenario. He could just stop drinking and chug some water, sit down and chill out. It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything was fine.

(Shinji knew that having Kaworu at this party was making him feel a little out of control. His usual coping mechanism at parties was to drink more, but drinking until he threw up at this party was out of the question. He had to restrain himself. But, then, the anxiety would build inside the space of his lungs, making it feel like he was always out of breath. He was sweaty. His hands were quite noticeably shaking.)

Everything was bad, bad, bad, bad. 

“...ey. Hey, Puppy Boy. Hey.”

Shinji didn’t realize that he had been staring into space again.

“Huh? Oh, Mari.”

“What’s wrong with you?” She already had her arm draped across his shoulders. “You look like you’re about to keel over. You’re not going to throw up on my shoes are you?” She shot him a smirk. “But, actually, don’t throw up on my shoes because they were expensive.”

“N-No. Sorry—I mean, I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Riiiight.” Her fingers tapped against the skin on his neck. It was unpleasant. “Probably has nothing to do with a certain house guest or anything like that.” She was invading more and more of his personal space. If she got any closer, his breath would fog up her red frames. “Well, am I right, Puppy Boy?” A wink.

“Stop teasing me, Mari.”

“Oh, c’mon. You’re just such an easy target.”

She pulled away, standing with her hands on hips in a manner that would make Asuka proud.

“I heard from a little birdy that _you’ve_ got a crush on Princey. Good choice, to be honest. He’s very easy on the eyes.”

Despite trying not to let on to any possibility of that being true, his bright red cheeks were a dead give away. 

“Nope. You’ve heard wrong.” 

“Yeah...sorry to break it to you, but you’re not exactly subtle about it.”

Shit.

“I told you, you’re wrong.”

“Yes, because I always blush and stutter when I talk with people I don’t have a crush on. Shinji, you’re like, really bad at hiding what you’re feeling.”

(Well, of course. Shinji could never be anything but himself.)

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway because Kaworu’s a guy. Guys don’t like guys!”

Mari couldn’t help but burst out in loud, over-dramatic laughter, the kind where you have to grab your stomach to keep yourself from falling over. Shinji did not like this. It made him angry, but maybe that was better than being nervous.

“What’s so funny?” he grumbled, fist clenched. 

“Oh, man…” Mari wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “ _You’re_ so funny. You think that being a guy is the issue here.”

“What?” 

Mari leaned forward, getting in Shinji’s face again.

“Kaworu’s a flaming homo.”

“What?!”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous. How the hell didn’t you know?”

“He’s—what—?”

“I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious. Just look at him! Although, I may just have a good gaydar because I also am a flaming homo.”

“What?!” 

“All your friends are gay, don’t you know?” She giggled, pinching Shinji’s cheek. “Puppy Boy sure is adorable. So cute and naive.” 

Shinji almost couldn’t believe it. He had crafted this narrative in his head where Kaworu was simply out of the question because Shinji’s silly crush would forever go unreciprocated since Kaworu wasn’t disgusting and didn’t go around doing unmentionable things with other guys. But, apparently, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.  

“I-I’m n-not gay, though—”

“You do realize that having a crush on another guy isn’t very straight, right? Like, it’s kinda...the definition of gay. Also, news flash, you can like boys and girls and nonbinary folks, too. That’s still pretty gay, though.” 

“B-But, I—” 

“If I can have Princess, you can have Prince. Sounds like a good idea, right?”

“No.” 

Mari shrugged. 

“Whatever. I’m going to go try to bang your ex. Let me know if you want help seducing Princey. Although, I don’t think you’ll have much trouble. He’s a bit of a slut, afterall.”

She left Shinji in a stunned daze, mouth slightly agape, eyes fixated on where she had been. Maybe blacking out at this party would be a better idea than facing the crushing embarrassment he was currently experiencing.

He took a sip of his jungle juice and prayed for the sweet release of death for not the first time that night.

 

* * *

 

All he had done was flash Mari and Asuka a pleasant smile while passing through. He didn’t say anything, and he wasn’t overtly rude.

However, Asuka was visibly perturbed.

“What’s up with that guy, anyway? Where does he get off looking so fucking smug?”

“What, like this?” Mari tried her best to imitate his feline-like smile, but no one could pull off the subtle smugness that Kaworu wore like a badge of honor.

“Yeah, he just looks like a fucking douchebag.”

Mari snorted.

“I mean, sort of, but he’s harmless. Just a gay mess, but like, same.”

“Eugh,” Asuka’s disgust was practically palpable. “Of course, he is.”

“Yeah, he’s a great big twink. He likes to brag about hooking up with people, but I think he just does it because he feels guilty about it.”

“I don’t want to know about any of that.” 

“Hmm, are you sure you’re into guys? I’m as gay as it gets, and I wouldn’t mind watching Kaworu bang. He’s so beautiful, you can’t look directly at him without doubting your eyes.”

“Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean everyone is, _Mari._ I just have no interest in a smug bastard!”

“I wouldn’t say the same for little Puppy Boy.”

Asuka’s eyebrow twitched.

“What?”

She should have known that Mari’s evil smile meant that she was up to no good. If there was one thing that Mari liked more than girls, it was drama. 

“Oh, you didn’t notice?” she tutted. “He’s a _total wreck_ around him. Puppy Boy looks like he’s going to self-destruct if he gets too close to him. My gaydar says that Shinji wants to tap that.” 

She could see Asuka visibly tense, jaw locking and the hand that wasn’t holding a drink clenching in a fist.

“Why the hell should I care? We’re not dating anymore, Shinji can go off and fuck whatever he wants. You’re an idiot if you think that bothers me. Hell, I knew he was gay when he didn’t want to fuck me even though I’m so fucking hot.” 

Mari chuckled, throwing an arm over her shoulder.

“Of course. Princess is very, very attractive. Maybe you should have pegged him or something. He obviously wants his ass torn up.” 

“That is super not an image that I want to think about.”

“Would you rather think about me tearing you up?”

Asuka snorted, lifting Mari’s hand off her shoulder. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Aww, c’mon. I’d be way better than Puppy Boy,” Mari pouted. “I would always make sure Princess is satisfied.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Asuka waved her off with an accompanying roll of her eyes. “Last time I checked, I’m not gay.”

Before Asuka went out of earshot, Mari called after her, “Well, check again!” 

Mari sighed. Maybe she was a tad disappointed, but she hadn’t been defeated yet. Time to move onto Plan B.

Operation: Turn Everyone Gay.

 

* * *

 

“Hello, boys, gals, and nonbinary pals,” Mari exclaimed, looking expectantly at the group of friends she had wrangled together. The living room had thinned out a bit as most party goers had either left or migrated to the back yard.

Shinji had a sinking feeling that Mari was up to no good. She had suspiciously gathered Asuka, Toji, Kensuke, Hikari, Kaworu, and himself together in a small circle.

“Everyone plant your asses on the ground.”

Toji raised an eyebrow.

“Why should we do that?”

“Hmm, maybe because it’s my party, and I told you to,” she grinned. This seemingly was enough for Kaworu and Toji because they descended to the carpet. They were drunk enough that Mari’s logic seemed pretty airtight and the dirty carpet didn’t seem to be a bother. Kaworu rolled his eyes painfully. Mari cleared her throat and pressed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. 

“Well then.” Kaworu mirrored the action with his middle finger. The reflection of the strobe lights from the other room upon his glasses hid the expression of his eyebrows. 

Slowly but surely everyone sat down, eyeing each other nervously.

“You know what these means, right?” 

All eyes turned to Mari, who looked like she was about to do something very mischievous. Asuka’s face had devolved from an amused smirk to that of muted terror. This queued Shinji to realize that Mari was about to suggest something outlandish and possibly indecent.

“No…?”

She held up the empty 40 that someone had left behind.

“Care for a friendly game of Spin the Bottle?” 

Kaworu squinted in some investigative seriousness that was, frankly, concerning. “I see now. Queen of Debauchery, Matriarch of this coven.”  

Mari smirked. 

“Are you serious?” Kensuke asked while also adjusting his glasses. “What is this, a high school drama?”

Mari grinned, seemingly invested in this idea. 

“I’m very serious. What better way to spice up a boring party than a little sexual tension?”

“Ugh, some of your ideas are downright awful, Mari,” Asuka sneered. 

“Like you’re not into it.” 

Shinji looked like he was about to implode on himself.

Toji chuckled. “What’s wrong guys? It’s just a game. Y’all are acting like you’ll have to bang or somethin’.”

“Well, I was thinking that instead of just, y’know, kissing in front of everyone, if that’s not your style, we could use that closet right there—”

“No way. Nuh-uh, absolutely not,” Shinji broke in. His ears were red.

“I don't remember her mentioning _anything_ about _that kind_ of thing. _Kukuku.”_

Shinji and Toji synced in the rising of red up their cheeks.

“What’s wrong, Puppy Boy? Allergic to fun?” Mari teased.

“This isn’t what I would consider ‘ _fun._ ’”

“Oh, I guess maybe you’re just a...scaredy cat.” Mari stuck her tongue out. What a cliche phrase. No way he’d fall for—

“I’m not afraid of kissing.”

“Kissing? Oh, your mind is already on the mark, isn’t it?” Shit, caught again.

“Y-You know what I mean! I mean, dares, and stuff. Forget it!”

“You’re so cute when you’re angry, I could just eat you up,” Mari smirked.

“I wouldn’t do that. There has to be something left of him if he’s going to play. I’ll have to intervene if you continue to bully this sweet boy.”

Shinji’s gaze was ripped from Mari to Kaworu, who seemed to ooze with drunken amusement. He had an urge to pinch himself because he wasn’t sure if he heard right. Was he dreaming? Did Kaworu really make a, god-forbid, flirty comment directed towards him? Probably, since Asuka was shooting him a death glare.

Holy shit.  

“I-I-I mean, I’m not going to—” 

Mari thought it was best to save Shinji from dying of mortification. 

“Alright, now that we’re all on the same page, let’s establish some ground rules. I’m a fan of the classic game, no frills, y’know. You spin the bottle, it lands on someone, you have to go in the closet for seven minutes, and whatever happens in there is whatever happens. But, since we have some  _babies_ in this group,” she paused to glare at Shinji, who flushed accordingly, “I guess, you’ll have a truth or dare-like option. But, if you choose truth, you gotta do a shot. I think that’s pretty fair.”

Shinji wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

(If he had no way out of it, if he and Kaworu were forced to make out, if he had no choice, he might feel better about it, but giving him the option to chicken out would absolutely reduce his chances of not being a fucking pussy. Also, it’s probably fucked up to want to make out with your therapist, anyway. I mean, not like that he really cared or anything, but it just seems like there’s something inherently devious about the power dynamic.)

Or, maybe that’s another reason why the idea was so hot. 

( _No, no, Shinji. Stop that train of thought right there. You are not going to kiss your therapist. That is all types of wrong. You are disgusting. What is wrong with you? Why would you even consider that?_ )

He accidentally found himself looking at red rubies and an accompanying smile. He looked somewhat amused with himself, his lashes fluttered ever so lazily. Mesmerizing. Something seemed different about him, like his smirk was more...predatory? Nah, probably just imagining it. But, Shinji was once again reminded of his first encounter with Kaworu, his body reliving that first moment of eye contact. He quenched his dry tongue with a sip of his drink. It just made his mouth stickier.

“Alrighty, then, who wants to start?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was staring again. Shinji turned away, forcing his eyes to fix to the carpet.

“Or, am I going to have to pick someone?” 

“Aw, whatever, I’ll start,” Toji drawled, leaning forward to grab the bottle from Mari’s grip. “Y’all are a bunch of straight up cowards, I swear t’God.” 

He set the bottle in the middle and gave it a fairly impressive spin. The lot of them sat in a nervous silence while the talking of party goers and the bass from the other room blended into an ominous white noise.

As the bottle slowed, it just narrowly missed Kensuke, landing on Hikari. 

“Oh, that’s boring!” Mari shouted. “You two are already a thing.”

“That’s the way it happens sometimes,” Hikari offered with a shrug.

Mari huffed. “New rule. If you are going out or used to be a couple, you both have to take a shot anyway. You’re lucky I don’t make the straights take shots just for being straight.”

Asuka leapt up. “Let me get the vodka.” She ran into the other room and grabbed the handle from the freezer along with two shot glasses. As much as she wasn’t a fan of how obviously Mari was trying to get her to make out with her, she very much enjoyed the idea of watching her friends lose their shit over something as benign as a little bit of kissing. Hell, she kissed all of her friends when she was younger. Not a big deal. 

She shoved the shot glasses into Toji and Hikari’s hands.

“Drink up, buttercup.”

“Aye, you stole my line,” Mari laughed.

And, they did. The worst part is that they didn’t have anything to chase with, but if you’re drunk enough, it doesn’t really matter. Hikari coughed a little, but they weren’t going to let a little alcohol get in the way of a party-sanctioned excuse to make out. 

But, that’s the issue. When you have a Seven Minutes in Heaven rule, there’s the inevitable hang time where it’s awkward for everybody.

Mari, however, did not seem to experience the concept of being awkward.

“Puppy Boy, you should spin next.”

“Huh? What? Why?” 

“I dunno. Because I told you to.”

He huffed, “Fine,” and leaned forward to start his own round. As he watched the bottle spin, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would be disappointed if it didn’t land on Kaworu. That didn’t stop his inner dialogue from chanting ( _Not Nagisa, Not Nagisa, Not Nagisa_ ), but it all seemed like a lie he was telling himself.

As fate would have it, the bottle slowed down and pointed directly at Kaworu Nagisa. 

Shit.

Mari let out a loud cackle and clapped her hands together while Kaworu’s grin seemed to grow larger, if that were possible. 

It must have been the alcohol that let the words fall so freely from his mouth.

“Nagisa, Truth or Dare?”

Kaworu was looking at him, but it seemed to be a softer look than he had on previously. This was more of the look he gave him when he was listening to him in sessions. He seemed understanding and patient, something Shinji hadn’t expected during a childish game such as this one.

“Truth.”

Mari sighed. “Take a drink, you two.”

They complied, the burning of liquor dulled by the nervousness in Shinji’s chest.

(Maybe a little disappointment was creeping in. He knew deep down that Nagisa would never make Shinji do anything he wasn’t comfortable doing, but also, if he said he hadn’t fantasized about making out with Nagisa in a closet, he would be lying.)

“O-Okay—um, uh—well, I, uh…”

“Oh, for Christ’s Sake. We don’t have all day,” Mari rolled her eyes. “Hey, Prince, what’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done on a one night stand?”

Shinji nearly spit out his drink, turning to Kaworu while stuttering some kind of vicarious apology for him. Kaworu just raised his eyebrows and made an ambiguously ironic expression; giving Shinji a reassuring smile before tilting his head to the side and squinting towards Mari. 

“Do you...think I'm a pervert?”

“Oh, are you suddenly resigning, Prince? Perhaps you're…” Mari turned towards Shinji and covered her giggling with her palm. “...keeping up appearances?”

Kaworu smirked. “Maybe you just want to hear something so you may reap your own satisfaction.”

“Of course. Heheheh…” 

Asuka slammed her drink down, splashing some of it onto Shinji, which caused him to squeal and furiously wipe at his khakis. “Mari!”

“Hmmm…? What’s the matter, princess?”

“This is gross!”

“Ah, I see. I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to offend your delicate sensibilities. Please, allow me to make it up to you…Also, it’s your turn now, isn’t it Kaworu? Time for your extracted revenge, perhaps.”

“Forgive her, Shinji. She doesn’t understand you the way I do.”

Shinji gulped. Kaworu shifted his eyes towards Mari briefly before giving the bottle a firm spin.

“Hmm.”

Shinji’s field of vision warped in his effort to track its movement. Slowly creeping, the bottle had just enough momentum as to inch itself safely out of the space which may be in front of Shinji or in an ambiguous vicinity.

It didn’t seem to really matter who got picked. He had stopped paying attention, falling deeper into a daze. Shots were thrown back, dirty stories were told, cheeks became flushed. Because of all the rules Mari kept making up, eventually, it just turned into everyone taking a shot every round, and well, that was a just a mess waiting to happen. 

Shinji vaguely remembered Mari landing on him, but if they had gone in the closet, there was no kissing involved (although, Shinji did recall a “coming out of the closet” joke, at his expense).

Mari may not have turned everyone gay, but she sure was out to give them alcohol poisoning.

 

* * *

 

Shinji felt the cold porcelain of the toilet seat on his forehead in his vain attempt to spare Kaworu the sight of him spilling his guts out into the pipes. Shinji had never heard Kaworu speak with such urgency, with stress and fatigue. Kaworu’s palms felt clammy on Shinji’s forehead as he felt himself being supported. Shinji heard a bead of sweat slip off his numb cheeks splash in the toilet bowl. He was turned to face Kaworu with bloodshot eyes. Kaworu examined the mask of Shinji’s broken vessels, repeating his name in a nearly convincing sentiment of placidity. The gentle touches against Shinji’s temples gave him wild expectations. He made Kaworu upset—he was the one who shattered Kaworu’s veneer of mature perspicaciousness.

Sympathy or empathy would not be the correct word to reflect Shinji’s emotional state in reaction to these events. The doting he received from Kaworu after his outburst—holding his hand, handing him water, salvaging for aspirin behind the mirror, demonstrating a genuine concern for his wellbeing—made him feel guilty. In his mind, he thought to himself how selfish it was to take advantage of Kaworu’s good grace, how undeserving he was, how he would like to greedily milk Kaworu of his care and become the special beneficiary of his charisma.

Kaworu had finally caught his breath while Shinji was brushing his teeth with (presumably) Asuka’s stolen toothbrush. Through their reflection, he could see a flush (markedly brighter than that within the bottle circle) and swollen eyes rest against his shoulder as Kaworu’s arms followed in a tight squeeze around his waist. 

“I was scared to death. I don’t know what I’d do if you were seriously sick. I can’t help but apologize for Mari’s irresponsibility in this matter.”

Shinji froze. He was taken aback, but he desperately hoped that Kaworu would not take his automatic reactions as a signal to stop touching him. Kaworu’s hair brushed against his cheek and verified his previous hypothesis regarding kitten fur. Shinji couldn’t control the weird girlish noise that escaped the back of his throat. Kaworu snickered in relief, but his brows were furled in the recession of panic mode.  

“K-Kaworu. You...don’t have to do this."

“Don’t worry about it, Asuka and Mari are off in some similar position I’d presume. And Toji and Hikari. We’re friends, after all.”

“Friends, huh..." Shinji breathed in deeply in an attempt to catch his stolen breath. "You always say the right thing. You always know what to say to make me feel better. You’re amazing. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Shh, don’t worry. I’ll worry for you. Shinji, I’ll never forget about you. I’m really concerned about you. I think about you a lot.”

“M-Me too, Kaworu...K-Kaworu, is it true what Mari said?”

An awkward aura quickly spilled from Shinji’s words, and he got to see another side of Kaworu he did not know existed. Kaworu turned to the side and let his bangs fall over his face. He squeezed Shinji tighter. Shinji squeaked, but Kaworu didn’t react.

“Ah...yes. Is it disagreeable?”

“I don’t care. I don’t think anything could change the way I feel about you.” 

“I’m relieved that you understand. I had taken care to not disgust you with intimate details. Even if you hate me now, I wouldn’t be angry. People are in constant conflicts between their humanity and their emotions. The lizard brain, the automatic reactions, are so much stronger. You can’t control your feelings or your body.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay. I know. It’s natural. I’m happy I can make you react with pleasure. I want you to have those feeling so you may open up and accept me.”

“I’m so gross.” 

“No, you’re not. You just say that because you’re ashamed and embarrassed. I used to be like that, too. Rather, I also feel like that, though my reaction-formation begets those true feelings. It’s more obvious now when I speak with you.”

“Kaworu? You too?”

“Yes. But, I suppose somewhere along the line, I made the choice to defy the plans others had constructed for me. Everyone else is in similar positions. I bet Asuka and Mari are having the same conversation. So are thousands of people. Perhaps it's something we are always thinking about, beneath the surface. Maybe it’s in situations like this—”

“Yeah, it’s like you’re looking right through me.”

“I see. I mean to say, when people are close enough they naturally want to fill the holes inside each other.”

“Are you like me, Kaworu?”

“We are similar but we are not the same. Forgive me. I may not make so much sense in this state.” 

“K-Kaworu. I’m like that too, maybe it’s more you than anything.”

“I can sense our mutual feelings together.”

“Do you feel like that, too?”

“Yes, do you remember what I said before Shinji? I emphasize with you.”

“I-It’s getting really hot in here...I-I think the others must be getting worried, umm...maybe we should get out of here.”

“Are you sure you are alright, Shinji? You’re sweating.”

“You too, Kaworu.”

“Oh...yes, we should leave. I don’t know if it’s good for us to stay in here. You should just sit on the couch for now and I’ll get you more fluids. Forgive me for failing as your superior and crossing boundaries.”

“You taught me a lot, Kaworu. I want you to continue. I’m sorry, I’m just so fucked up.”

Shinji felt his face begin to burn again.

“Please, don’t cry. I won’t leave you by yourself. I’ll stay here until you want to come out. Together.”

“Yeah, together.” A new flush began to creep onto his cheeks. “Kaworu, I don’t think I could ever hate you even if I tried.”

Kaworu buried his smile in Shinji’s shoulder. “Thank you… Shinji, I forgot to mention it, but—I had the same dream as you.”

 

* * *

 

An empty house after a party is an eerie one. Discarded bottles and cups, articles of clothing, lights left on. It’s almost like an abandoned battlefield. You can see the ghosts of that kid that chugged a fifth and the person who knocked over a lamp.

But, you also would have to be paying attention to notice, and the only two people left in that house couldn’t care less about the physical damage caused by dozens of drunken students.

The main problem was that Shinji couldn’t think about anything other than Nagisa.

He was so pretty, maybe even prettier because of the incredibly thick beer/liquor/punch goggles Shinji had on. It was slightly unfathomable that someone could be so incredibly gorgeous and be real. Not for the first time that night, he had the urge to pinch himself—to remind himself that this wasn’t a dream or some type of alcohol-induced hallucination.

Also, he just—he was just being _so nice_ , you know? Like, so, so nice. He didn’t have to be keeping him company. He didn't have to be taking care of him. He didn’t have to be lounging on the couch with him.

(Oh, but he did it so nonchalantly. It was like their sessions in a way—Shinji a bit nervous and Kaworu as smooth and kind as ever—but so much more intimate.)

Shinji couldn’t stop thinking how incredibly beautiful he was.  

Maybe that’s why it slipped out. 

“You’re so pretty—” 

A Freudian slip of the worst kind. But, could you blame him? He was so drunk, he could barely see straight let alone stop his inner dialogue from spilling out his mouth. 

(Also, he had always wanted to let Kaworu know, even though he would never have been able to do it sober.)

Even so, his hand clapped over his mouth in a faux display of embarrassment. It fit his narrative better than to be suddenly forward, but if he was honest, the alcohol was eating away at his restraint.

Kaworu did that chuckle he always did. It was as endearing as it was charming.

“I do get that a lot.” 

He treated it as a natural reaction to him rather than a little boy being too drunk to watch his mouth. Shinji took his hands away from his face, placing them in his lap.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to say stuff like that.” 

“Shinji, you don’t need to apologize. You’re simply stating your mind.” He never let his gaze fall anywhere but Shinji’s face. He had a way of fixating on him that Shinji couldn’t think too hard about lest he allow his mind to drift elsewhere (that was frankly more dirty than just where his eyes were looking).

“Ah, you’re always so kind, Nagisa—”

“Heh, you broke the only two rules. No ‘sorry’s’ and no ‘Nagisa.’”

“So—I-I just keep forgetting.” This time, he did become embarrassed, hands fidgeting nervously in his lap.

“There’s no need to feel sorry about anything, Shinji.” A hand placed on the younger boy’s shoulder. “Also, you seem to be unaware that you are quite easy on the eyes as well.” 

What? 

Holy shit. What?

Did Kaworu _actually_ find him attractive? How was that possible? It seemed unfathomable. Shinji always felt disgusting (although, he had showered today because he wanted to look nice at the party), but—oh my God, _what?_ Like, seriously? Even after he had watched him vomit? This wasn’t a joke?

“Are you serious?” 

Almost as if he was reading Shinji’s thoughts, he replied, “Is it so unbelievable that someone could find you attractive?”

(Shinji had thought he was imagining things earlier, but Kaworu’s smile was definitely more predatory, but not in a creepy way, just in a sly way. Now that he was thinking about it, smugness can very easily transform into other emotions, some not as pure as others.)

“I guess. But, you’re, like, always looking nicer than me.” 

“There are many ways people can be attractive. Someone’s personality, for example, can change a person’s perspective on how they present themselves. I would even dare say that the essence of human attraction is the connection of souls and that the body is simply a vessel for which they can interact.” 

Shinji couldn’t really understand what Kaworu was going on about, but he just sounded so melodic, so soothing. And, the best part was that his words were directed at Shinji himself. Never had words had the ability to make him feel like he was physically filling up with warmth. It felt like his organs were becoming sticky or his lungs were being crushed by the thumping of his heart.

“That’s, uh—oh, man—sorry, I’m just so drunk.” 

Kaworu’s expression went from smug to worried in an instant.

“Do you need help getting home? Obviously, I shouldn’t drive after a party, but I can make sure you find your way safely.”

The idea of leaving Kaworu’s side was physically painful for him to consider, so he simply didn’t. 

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

Standing up was generally a mistake because if Shinji thought he was drunk sitting down, he was even more so when upright. “Oh, man,” he repeated again, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists.

Kaworu wouldn’t let on, but his bright flush indicated that he, too, was incredibly intoxicated. But, he wasn’t so far gone to not notice Shinji’s slight wobble as he stood.

“Careful.”

A hand snaked around the smaller boy’s shoulder.

The contact made Shinji’s entire body light up, a fresh shock of panic flashing down his spine. It was a good panic, though, one that elicited a girlish squeak from him.

“No need to be so tense, Shinji.”

It was probably worse that Kaworu’s thumb was rubbing against his shoulder. Maybe it was meant to be comforting, but it made Shinji’s knees feel as though they were going to buckle. He prayed to God that Kaworu couldn’t tell that he was breathing much too hard.

Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy. 

( _Do you know you make my head spin?_ )

“I’m just not used to being close to someone like this.”

“Does physical contact make you nervous?”

Eyes cast downward. Couldn’t risk meeting his gaze. Not now, not like this.

“I guess so.”

“Mari must make you incredibly uncomfortable, then.”

“Doesn’t she make everyone uncomfortable?”

“Touche,” Kaworu chuckled. “Still, it’s not my intention to make you feel awkward. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make you feel less nervous around me.”

Shinji lifted his head but still would not allow himself to look at Kaworu’s face. 

“I’m not sure how you could do that,” he muttered. “It’s not that I’m nervous, per se. I just don’t know what to do with myself sometimes.”

“Hm.”

It was a gradual movement, which is why Shinji didn’t realize it was happening, but slowly, Kaworu’s other hand wrapped around his other shoulder and pulled him in closer. And, just like that, he was being hugged by Kaworu Nagisa. It seemed like a gratuitous display of affection, and maybe it was, but he had an excuse like he always did.

“Do you mind this?”

Shinji wasn’t sure what to say.

(Of course, he was in favor of his head being pressed against Kaworu’s chest, his body flush with his, but at the same time, this was too much for him. He had barely gotten used to an arm across his shoulders let alone a full-on embrace.)

“Sometimes exposure to new experiences and sensations can allow them to become more normalized.”

Kaworu’s scent was distracting. He smelled like a mix of cologne and soap. The hands that rested on his back seemed to burn holes in his t-shirt.

“Do you not often receive positive physical touch from others?” 

He didn’t have the energy to lie. He was too busy trying to keep himself together. 

“No.”

“It would make sense, then, that someone displaying physical affection would make you uncomfortable.” 

Why did his voice have to be so smooth? He loved the way he could hear it being reverberated in his ribcage. It was lulling him away from his anxiety, which was almost ever present inside him. If they hadn’t been standing, Shinji may have dozed off right there in his arms. It just felt so right, so natural, so gratifying. He wished this feeling could last forever.

But, apparently, Kaworu was aware that what he was doing was perhaps a tad too bold because he released his grip on the smaller boy. Shinji felt some of his resolve stick to his arms.

“Sorry,” Kaworu said with a sad smile.

The word sounded strange coming from his mouth. 

“I thought we weren’t saying that.”

“You’re right.” More of a playful grin this time. “Excuse me for setting a poor example.” 

Shinji breathed, “I honestly don’t mind.” What exactly he was referring to, Shinji himself wasn’t sure.

Kaworu let out a tired laugh, sounding as exhausted as Shinji felt.

“We should probably get you home, shouldn’t we?”

The pang of disappointment in his chest started to throb as Kaworu led him over to the door. His expression was just slightly solemn, and if Shinji didn’t know any better, he might start to believe that he, too, didn’t want this party (or what was left of it) to end.

( _Why do you have to leave me?_ )

He knew the answer why, but he hated it—he hated that truth. He hated the circumstances of reality that made it so they couldn’t/shouldn’t be together, and this night felt like a slap in the face. Instead of their proximity being a deterrent, it only made it so, so much worse. His heart was flopping discordantly in his chest. He felt like he may be ill again. 

Shinji knew that once they stepped through the door that it would be over, that they would never again have an experience together like this. The next time they would meet would be in Dr. Nagisa’s office, and Shinji Ikari would have to swallow his feelings and pretend like he didn’t want Kaworu to slam him to the ground and ravage him until he could no longer think straight.

( _Oh, God. I want him so bad.)_

“Which dorm do you live in?” Kaworu asked softly, hand reaching for the doorknob. 

“Casper, but I—” Shinji’s breath caught in his throat as the door opened in front of them, cold air hitting him in the face. The idea of returning to his dorm after this amazing night, after this amazing time together felt like a fate worse than death. For the first time in so long, he actually didn’t want to die. He wanted to be right there in that moment.

With Kaworu.

He turned to look at the smaller boy. Shinji had his gaze fixed on the floor. 

“Hm?”

Shinji knew he shouldn’t say what was on his mind, but he couldn’t find the restraint not to. 

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Oh?”

Kaworu’s tone had picked up to be slightly more light and playful as the door shut with a hollow slam. When the noise made Shinji jump and look up at him, he realized that Kaworu’s eyes were way more piercing than he had ever seen them.

A small smile graced his lips as he said, “Then, where do you want to go?”

( _Oh no. What am I doing?_ )

“I’m, uh—I’m n-not sure—”

Before the full consequences of his words could register, Kaworu was coming toward him, the distance between their two bodies closing until Shinji was backed up against the wall and Kaworu was looming over him, his hand placed on the wall next to Shinji’s head.

“You’re not sure?”

(They were much too close for comfort. This proximity felt much more intense than their previous embrace.)

“I-I don’t know—”

“Could it be that you want to stay with me?” A smirk. Definitely predatory. No doubt about it. He reminded Shinji of a white tiger about to pounce on him and eat him whole.

Shinji’s head bobbed like it was disconnected from the rest of his body.

“My, how forward.” His words fell off his tongue so precisely, so eloquently that he had a hard time believing he was drunk, even though Shinji had watched Kaworu down about the same amount of liquor as he had that evening.

(He hated to admit that his words struck him in his core, made his entire body pulse with the beating of his heart.)

Kaworu was so close to him. His body heat was making Shinji feel much too warm. Would he catch on fire? It certainly felt like it. 

“Hey, take a deep breath. You’re shaking.”

His words should have sounded concerned, but they sounded much closer to how Shinji had fantasized about him sounding—close and warm and slightly desperate. It was too good to be true. It felt like a fantasy.

Maybe it was. Maybe this was all a dream. 

In a temporary moment of insanity, Shinji tilted his head upward to achieve the exact angle which would allow their lips to meet.

It had always struck Shinji as corny that people described kisses in the context of fireworks exploding, but there seemed to be some truth to that because the physical connection of their bodies felt too intense to be described as anything other than a trite metaphor.

His lips were even softer than Shinji had imagined, a perfect fit for his own. They felt so familiar, as if somehow, somewhere this had happened before.

It was also all the more rewarding when Kaworu didn’t pull away, and instead, leaned into the kiss, fingers brushing some of Shinji’s hair behind his ear. It was such a light and tender touch, and Shinji could practically cry at how desperately he had wanted to be caressed by these hands.

It was over too quickly, a fleeting moment that Shinji instantly grieved for. He wanted to kiss Kaworu again and again, to have him touch all of him. He wanted him so bad, it made his chest ache.

They paused there for a moment, frozen in space, heavy breaths hanging between them. In a small wave of horror, Shinji realized that he had tears hanging in his eyes. But, Kaworu was also visibly shaken, his panting and flushed cheeks wholly uncharacteristic of the usually calm and composed Kaworu Nagisa.

Then, the words came flooding out.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—I really am sorry—”

Kaworu chose to shut him up, not by telling him to stop apologizing, but by taking Shinji’s face in his hands and planting his mouth on his.

Shinji couldn’t even feel shocked because he was so relieved.

(Kaworu was more forceful than Shinji had been, Shinji’s head accidentally hitting against the wall—not like he minded. He couldn’t even feel it because he was too busy readily parting his lips and letting Kaworu’s tongue mingle with his own. He was too intoxicated to stop himself from groaning into the older man’s mouth, an excitement striking him deep in the stomach. Kaworu made his own desperate sound, something that Shinji had previously resigned to only imagining.)

He placed a kiss on Shinji’s jawline, a kiss on Shinji’s neck. He clutched Kaworu’s shirt, eyes clenched shut, breathing fast and heavy. Then, he felt teeth on his neck and the tiny squeak Shinji couldn’t hold back only made him bite down harder. Kaworu also took the opportunity shove a knee between Shinji’s legs, one hand hanging on Shinji’s hip and the other pinning him against the wall.

Shinji’s gasp made Kaworu smirk, which Shinji could tell because he felt his lips curl on his neck. 

Kaworu released his teeth from his skin, taking a moment to appreciate the bothered face of Shinji Ikari. The hand that was on his hip began to slowly creep under the cotton of his t-shirt. Neither of them wanted to appear desperate, but it would have been laughable to interpret their actions as anything else. 

Through heavy breaths, Kaworu leaned in so he could whisper in Shinji’s ear.

“I’ve been trying so hard not to think about how adorable you are.”

The noise that came out of Shinji’s mouth sounded so pained that it could barely be considered a moan. His hands gripped harder at Kaworu’s v-neck. The combination of his hot breath on his ear, the sweet but dirty words coming from his mouth, and the knee that he couldn’t help but press against were unraveling Shinji completely.

“ _Please._ ”

It was more of a whine than anything. Shinji was still shaking, but it was because of something else altogether.

“Please what?” That alone would have probably been enough, but then, there was a tongue and teeth pulling at his earlobe.

This moan was more classically a moan, one that grated at his throat and shot sparks all through his body. 

“ _P-Please_ , Kaworu—please, I want you so bad—I’ve imagined this so many times before. Please, I want you so bad, Kaworu—” 

Shinji couldn’t even finish his desperate babbling because Kaworu’s mouth was all over his again. Their bodies were flush together, but this was completely different. Before, it had been kindness and affection, but this was suppressed lust that had burst out and completely consumed them.

Kaworu pulled at Shinji’s bottom lip with his teeth, Shinji ground against Kaworu’s knee, and for a second, he was afraid he was going to come from just that alone.

Maybe it was the strangled, “O-Oh, no—” that the younger boy uttered that made Kaworu realize that he may have been being a bit much too soon. That didn’t stop the sound of disappointment from Shinji when he pulled away. 

It took a second for Kaworu to catch his breath. 

Shinji would never forget the intensity of Kaworu’s red eyes when he said, “I want you, too.”

 


	6. Transference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learn to trust,  
> If you must,  
> Learn to love,  
> Then learn to trust.
> 
> Turn your back,  
> Close your eyes,  
> Open minds will  
> Learn to trust.
> 
> And be trusted so the guardian of  
> All that is secure and precious is you.

The moment Shinji heard the door shut behind them, he lost his restraint. The frustration of repressing his desires had reached the point of leaking into the realm of his dreams and surreal dissociations from time and space. Now it was leaking between his lips shivering against Kaworu, Shinji cringing at his own discomposure. Gently sucking and pecking of lips became a gross exchange of wet, red bitten lips against someone else's bedroom door. It was their luck and quick decision making that spared them the awkward fumble of shifty eyes hiding somewhere out of viewpoint or the unguarded entrance of one of their friends shrieking at the scene—Shinji inadvertently forcing his tongue between Kaworu’s lips, nearly choking on the other's spit. Shinji forgot his own experience and became a needy virgin eager to devour Kaworu in this poor rendition of his “making out with my hot therapist” daydreams. 

Mouth. Hands. Fingers. Everywhere he touched felt good. 

Kaworu was able to lift his head to catch his breath just as Shinji began feverishly attacking his neck and back. Kaworu’s lightheadedness was momentarily relieved as the salvia behind his ear touched the air and he felt a cool shiver down his spine. Shinji, in desperate lack of coordination, nearly ripped the collar of Kaworu’s shirt as he tried to gain access to his shoulders in assaults of nibbles and aggressive kisses. Kaworu could feel a consciousness scream something behind the overwhelming pleasure which was principally steering his lack of resistance in this compromising position. It was hard to make out what Shinji was saying through his stutter, but Kaworu perked up when Shinji put his weight on his back while whispering some greedy desires. Shinji slipped his hot palms up Kaworu’s shirt, grasped at the smooth flesh of his back, singing some praise about how much he dreamed about the tautness of his bare skin against his own. Shinji could not stop as the praises sung out of his mouth, things that have been swirling about his unconsciousness and were finally bursting in his fit of drunken hysterics. 

It’s as though his touch penetrated deep through Shinji’s skin, passing through the realm which separates the physical towards metaphysical and pulling the chambers of his heart tightly. He could feel the grip of his slender fingers around his pulse, his body melting in the overwhelming effect. He saw Kaworu glowing radiantly as the light of traffic flashed rays upon him through the shadows, conforming to his shape.  The creaking of metal bed frames jumping in the strength of their hips rocking against each other—their hard cocks straining against each other, slipping and pressing between each other's thighs, abdomens. The tightness of Shinji's erection throbbing against the seam of his pants was borderline painful.  He could feel  Kaworu's free fingers trembling as the topping man, with an unfamiliar hesitation, still managed to undo his trousers and relieve his frustrated bulge. Shinji had never seen Kaworu lose his cool, his heart swelling in empathy in light of their shared feelings. 

The dance of their now realized forms swam so naturally.  The sliding of invaded trousers passed their ankles with haste, scattered haphazardly on the carpet with wallets, keys, belts. Shirts soon followed, and he gasped at the slight coolness of Nagisa’s chest pressed against his hot, damp skin. Equally as smooth as his, but firmer. He could also feel his heartbeat through the man’s thin skin. Shinji’s eyes may be deceiving him (on the account of intoxication) as he could see (or rather imagine) the blood pumping through Kaworu’s blue veins, barely beneath the surface of his skin. A fragile heart, not unlike his, pulsing rapidly—like a rabbit’s—feeling the hormones and feel-good chemicals and such and such leak from his brain. A mutual desperation allowing them to forget the delicious taboo of foreboding behaviors. 

Shinji felt alive for the first time since he could remember, alive with Nagisa, alive in this moment. 

Kaworu was drawn into Shinji’s dreamy blue eyes, pressing his own hand against Shinji’s as the boy brushed his bangs behind his ear. 

“I've thought about this before.”

“About what?” He paused to register exactly where he had ended up after their desperation took hold. “Me being in between your legs?”

“Yeah…”

Amusement danced in his eyes. Even in the dim light of someone else’s bedroom, they glimmered so beautifully. It was almost more exciting that he was this pretty even while saying such lewd things.

“Do you often fantasize about me, Mr. Ikari?”

He nodded in a daze, heavy breathing making him feel light headed.  

“So, you pleasure yourself to the thought of me? You enjoy the thought of me on my knees in front of you?”

Shinji had the fleeting thought that if Kaworu didn't stop talking like that, he might come just from his words alone. 

“Y-Yeah…” 

“What did you think about?” 

Alcohol lubricated his words, made them slip out of his mouth before he had the chance to become embarrassed.  

“I came on your face.”

Fortunately, Nagisa did not seem to mind. In fact, he chuckled at Shinji’s blatant honesty. 

“For as innocent as you look, you certainly have a filthy mind, Shinji.” His tone was as light and teasing as it was sultry and intoxicating. Shinji had never thought it possible to experience such intense feelings just from words alone. “Although, I must admit that I enjoy when you talk like that. You’re quite adorable.”

Kaworu was brought down to earth, to his knees, in this revelation.

“C-Can you...leave them on?”

“Oh, you mean my glasses?” 

“Y-Yeah…”

Kaworu just chuckled smugly and pinched Shinji’s cheek. “I see. Are you into that? Will that make you happy?”

Shinji muttered a weak word of stuttered approval as Kaworu gently nodded his face against his shaft, holding it upward as he let his lips graze down it ever so softly. 

“What do you want me to do?”

Kaworu’s smooth skin gave Shinji wild expectations, a string of precum pulling off Kaworu’s cheek as their touch painfully separated. 

“If you don’t tell me what you want, I won’t know what to do.”

Shinji bit his palm firmly, squirming his hips upward as Kaworu tilted his head out of his aim, just so much so his tongue pressed against him and pushed his cock to the side. His soft bangs brushed over those dreamy eyes and wild strands tickled his flesh, driving him to some point near forgetting Japanese. 

Shinji’s knees wobbled as his anxiety fought against his strength to muster words, “Y-Your mouth. Please. In your mouth.” 

“Oh?” 

“Please, Nagisa.” 

“Call me Kaworu.” 

“Kaworu, please. Please! I want you so badly right now. Aah—”

“I love hearing you say my name, Shinji. You’re such a good boy.”

Shinji’s throat was shut when he felt Kaworu’s cool spit against the tip of his cock as he placed such inappropriately endearing kisses against it, sliding his tongue underside his needy erection. Shinji’s whines were so pathetic that Kaworu couldn’t help but to indulge him, feeling satisfied with reducing him to submission through his touch. 

And, that’s when Shinji was treated to the sight of Kaworu taking all of him in his mouth.

(It wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t just some loser kid in his room jacking off to some weird power fantasy. It was real.)

And, God—oh my God, it was so much better than he could have ever imagined. He had never felt anything like it. It wasn’t like this was his first time or anything, but it was probably because it _was Kaworu_. But, also, he was probably just really good at what he was doing—his tongue running over his length, his lips around him, the sounds that he made with each bob of his head.  

Kaworu gasped for air, “It’s nice, isn’t it?” 

“Kaworu...Ye..ah...nhg..”

“Is this your first time having sex with another man?”

“H-How can you...don’t ask things like that, ahh! Kaworu! Your teeth…”

“I want to hear it from your mouth.”

“Y-Yeah, j-just keep going.”

He knew it was going to be too much, and that’s why both of Shinji’s hands flew up to cover his mouth, just barely concealing an obscene sound that he didn’t even know he could make until this moment. It was a strange thing to think, but Kaworu’s mouth just felt _so good_. Shinji wondered if his body would melt or if he would simply pass out from a sensation so intense. Or, maybe it was that he was breathing too hard, and combined with his intoxication, he was feeling a bit dizzy.

He wanted to keep looking at him, to watch him between his legs, but he had to clench his eyes shut, still fighting back the urge to completely lose it. Even with his hands guarding his mouth, his vocalizations could still be heard. 

Shinji also heard the sound of Kaworu softly laughing.

“Ah, don’t hide your face like that.”

He peeked open an eye to see Kaworu smiling up at him. He reached up and pulled his hands away, lacing his fingers through one of Shinji’s hands. 

“I want to see your face when you come undone.”

Even through heavy breathing, Shinji managed to get out, “But, I sound stupid.”

“No, you don’t, Shinji. Even when I’m touching you like this, you’re not the only one feeling pleasure. I love the sounds you make. You’re very cute.”

“Embarrassing…” he mumbled.

“Would it still be embarrassing if I told you I wanted to hear more of you?” 

It was so surreal hearing those words from him, so close to how he had fantasized about. It made it seem like it hadn’t even been a fantasy at all but something that had really happened to him. Maybe it had. Shinji wasn’t sure. On the other hand, maybe this was all just another scene he cooked up while drunkenly masturbating in his dorm room.

But, the way Kaworu's eyes filled with amusement as he elicited a gasp from him seemed too much like the Kaworu he knew. He was proud that he was unwinding the boy so completely. It wasn’t that hard anyway, not when Shinji was so thoroughly smitten with him. His hand that wasn’t laced with Kaworu’s gripped at the bedsheets. His eyes were tearing up way too much for comfort.

“O-Oh no, Kaworu, s-stop it, I’m—”

Just as Shinji’s body began to shutter, Kaworu pulled away. 

“Ah!”

He jerked forward as come spilled from him and onto Kaworu’s glasses. Shinji hadn’t realized what had happened until he opened his eyes and saw the picturesque scene of the beautiful Kaworu Nagisa with viscous white fluid dripping from his face.

He smiled, cupping his palms under his face. 

“Well, Shinji? Is it as pleasing as you imagined it?”

The boy couldn’t help but gasp a little for he didn’t think that’s what Kaworu had in mind, and he simultaneously felt shameful and turned on by the idea that he wanted to specifically cater to his desires. It really was a sight to behold. Even though the act of being defiled like so seemed so degrading in Shinji’s mind, Kaworu still looked mighty pleased with himself.

It also might have had something to do with the fact that Shinji’s own face was clearly very bothered.

“Yea—I mean, i-it’s better, I think…” Shinji felt like he should advert his eyes, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to. “Sorry.”

He was still smiling.

“Well, to make it up to me, you could help clean up.”

That’s when Kaworu stood up, grabbed the underside of Shinji’s chin, and tilted his head so their lips could meet once again. He dimly realized that he tasted strange, and that slightly off taste was what had dripped from his glasses and onto his lips.

When Kaworu pulled away, he was smirking.

“How do you think you taste, Shinji?” 

“Uh...it’s weird…”

“You’ll get used to it. You were so good.” Kaworu licked his palm. 

Oh my God.

“Kaworu, I…”

“A lot came out.”

Kaworu stood up, holding his hand under his chin as he grabbed some article of clothing off the floor to catch the semen melting down his neck. He proceeded to wipe his glasses off and silently frowned to himself when he realized how expensive they were and hoped to god come wouldn’t destroy the coatings. Shinji was still sitting up on the bed, dazed from the aftershocks of pleasure pulsing up his spine. He was able to admire Nagisa from a distant angle for the first time, his full body portrait in the nude.  

Shinji had only pictured Kaworu in parts, as each bit of him was intensely sensual and contradictory to the rest of him. A constant upward battle to see the full, very human being when he was leaning on top of him. Not just a warm scent, hazy red eyes, or thin lips, but an entire face connected to a neck and a body, equal in stark pale contrast to his ruby eyes. 

Kaworu noticed Shinji scanning him feverishly and smirked. He approached him by holding Shinji’s cheeks with his hands and pushing him down with a hungry kiss. Shinji managed to scoot up the bed before he slid off the mattress as Kaworu landed on top of him. Kaworu chuckled and snatched the sheets beside Shinji’s waist and climbed on top of him, dried fluids nearly flaking off. 

Shinji had the urge to kiss and lick his cheeks clean, acting before entertaining the thought consciously. Kaworu just bit his lip and blew air against Shinji’s nose—he could not have expected Shinji’s transformation nor the courage arising from his affections towards him. Regret already forgotten. Disgust nonexistent.  

“So, how do you want to finish? Do you want to put it in me?” 

That sultry whisper knocked the wind out of Shinji’s chest. He didn’t know how to react, but as soon as he had evaded caution, he regained his breath in a flash. 

“I don’t know...how...You can do whatever you want, Nagisa.” He hid his words with his forearm over his eyes, shaking. 

Shinji felt a sharp shiver down his spine when Kaworu grabbed both of their cocks together—the wetness of the young man’s arousal sizzling against the heat of Shinji’s erection, the relieving cool touch of Kaworu’s thin fingers so delicately pressing the two of them together, his thumb mixing their precum together along the tips of their glans. Shinji was downright embarrassed at how turned on he was, his mouth and penis drooling in unison with each pass of Kaworu’s hand massaging the length of his shaft. Meanwhile, Kaworu was trapped within the broken vulnerability of Shinji’s incredibly blue eyes and was ravishing his bare shoulders. Shinji’s hair stood on end. His wrist intervened between their bodies, hugging his fingers around Nagisa’s. He panted hard, flexing his abdomen to control the overwhelming excitement of—not only touching another boy’s—but Nagisa’s. 

Shinji strained not to come all over each other when he felt Kaworu’s hot breath under his ear. 

Kaworu looked so cute, so _unguarded_ , a dazed look on his face. It was interesting because he always thought that Nagisa would be some kind of unphased sex god that would be difficult to get a reaction out of, but even with just his hand, Kaworu was looking pretty bothered.

“I’m sorry, I don’t really know what…”

Kaworu let his fingers dance around Shinji’s jawline, causing the boy to flinch.

“Shh...you’re alright, you’re doing fine.” Kaworu’s voice was half there—indulging in being this first kind of experience for such a precious boy. This kind of educator position, putting his hand on top of Shinji’s and guiding his wrist in expert motion. 

“Relax, I won’t hurt you. Ah—not so tight! Haha...Shinji.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Oh, ahh—god, sorry!”

“You’re perfect. Don’t worry. Just do what makes you feel good—oh.” Shinji couldn’t bear Kaworu’s slipping groans between his breath without his own high-pitch noises escaping his feverishly quivering lips. 

“Kaworu, ohh…”

Kaworu’s dick sprung against Shinji's stomach, and he let the weight of his hips find comfort between the boy's thighs. Shinji's natural reaction was to push them together, Kaworu sliding under him inadvertently. Shinji held his breath in a weak attempt to hold back his responding stutters, the pressure points under him violated and automatically triggered his knees to tremble. He could only bring Kaworu back to focus when his leg jerked and kicked Kaworu's hips off him. 

“Ahh! W-Wha—”

“Shinji, oh, I-I’m sorry...I got ahead of myself. But, I understand if you don’t want to be sodomized by me.”

Shinji had never seen Kaworu stutter. That flustered and disheveled expression of concern mixed with longing—it sent his imagination running wild. Kaworu brought a hand to Shinji’s cheek and brushed his bangs out his eyes. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I want your first time to be special. Thank you for giving me this. This is special to me.”

“Kaworu…”

“It's indulgent. Totally selfish and extravagant. I want you so bad. I want to be one with you. I want to be the first one. I want to defile you. I'm that kind of person. I can understand how scared you must feel with me.”

“I-I’m not afraid...It's just…” 

“Shinji, you’re crying.”

Kaworu was also like him. He winced and wiggled his own against Shinji's stomach, and in those moments of broken air, Shinji could admire that Kaworu was telling the truth—he _did_ want him that bad. He didn't want him to hate him. He didn't want to deny him. There was that sickening feeling again. It was partly how quickly his cock leaped as Kaworu spoke in such a breathy, deep voice. Kaworu wanted him. Someone finally wanted him that badly.

“Shinji, I promise that I won’t hurt you. Let me know if you don't like it.”

“K-Kaworu…”

Kaworu guided Shinji's smooth legs up in the air, guiding Shinji's hands underneath them.

“Put your thighs together. I want to move my hips so badly. It's because you made me like this. Let's feel good together.”

“Together?”

Shinji held onto his own skin, just able to hold his own thighs as Kaworu hoisted his ankles up over his shoulders and assaulted his legs with self-indulgent kisses and bites. Shinji’s toes curled, Kaworu’s body held between his legs as he fought against the natural, tickling reaction of kicking the personal space invader across the room.  

“Are you afraid of me?"

“No…It’s just…”

“You’re afraid of being strange. I knew you were like me. It was clear the moment you looked me in the eye.”

Kaworu pushed his hips against the flesh of Shinji’s thighs and pulled him close to his body to meet the force of moving his cock between them. Shinji was caught by those mesmerizing eyes, though his body was constantly screaming in the conflicting emotions of anxiety and lust.  

“I’m truly sorry that you met someone like me. However…”

Kaworu leaned down against Shinji’s hip, cracking his body in a way he didn’t know could be cracked before, pressure building against his lower back. Kaworu released his hands off Shinji’s legs, cathartically focused on maintaining their position around Kaworu’s waist and hips—soft flesh squeezing Kaworu’s erection in such a way that made Shinji feel incredibly small. 

“You knew—that I’m this kind of person.” 

“What are you saying...Kaworu…”

“Squeeze your thighs tighter together, like this.”

Shinji obeyed without a second thought. Kaworu’s eyes flustered, half-lidded, and his breath would skip, but it was those panting noises that made Shinji forget about everything but pleasing Kaworu and milking him of those beautiful sounds. He could feel him pulsing against his own member.

“Good boy. Shinji, you were the only one.”

“Hah?” 

Shinji was still covered in Kaworu’s spit and was churning with each other’s fluids, it wasn’t surprising how quickly Shinji became aroused again as Kaworu moved his hips back and slid back and forth between his thighs, slicking when their cocks touch. Shinji could do nothing but ride Kaworu’s wave. Something rolled down his cheeks. He felt lightheaded. 

“This is...I feel like I’m gonna die.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll hold you. I want to protect you so badly, Shinji.” 

Kaworu was speaking through soft moans, slowing his pace but not stopping his movement. Shinji’s mouth hung open, his throat felt dry with harsh panting. He couldn’t think of anything to say. 

“You were the only one who followed me outside that door. The only one who aroused such penetrating feelings. I pitied you. At least, that’s what I thought. When you first looked at me, so terrified in my presence, I thought to myself: ‘What’s this deep, sinking well in my stomach?’ That’s empathy—beyond the therapeutic standpoint—more so this confusing weight of concern. I thought to myself, ‘Is this what it's like to have a younger brother?’ But that wasn’t true either.” 

“...” 

“What does it mean when those brotherly feelings arise while I’m fucking? It means that you’re an object of my desire. We both repressed that. My concern for you had crossed a line some time ago, but I didn’t acknowledge it.” 

He pressed his fingers against Shinji’s palm, Shinji holding him close to his body. His neck hurt to move up, he couldn’t quite kiss him until Kaworu forced his body down and sucked on his lips, humming.

“I don’t feel dirty with you. Even in this lewd situation, you look just as pure as you did when I first met you. I don’t want someone who is like me as I am now, I want someone who is like me before I became strange.”

“Kaworu, I…This feels too good. ” 

Kaworu pulled Shinji’s hand up to his, kissing it.

“You’re such a considerate boy, so good, so precious. Shinji, do you feel dirty with me?”

“No...It feels so good. So good. Hah...” 

“Then, I’ll keep going. Please keep looking at me. I want to see your face.”

“Ahh…”

Kaworu undid his hands from Shinji’s, leading them again to his thighs. He wrapped his fingers around the two them—practically drooling together—and easily slipping between his grip and Shinji’s thighs as he thrusted forward between them. Shinji arched his back and dug his nails into his thighs, bucking to meet Kaworu’s movements. Kaworu responded to Shinji’s hard gasp and moaning by kissing him deeply again. It was Shinji who forced their tongues to dance again, only separated to catch his breath when Kaworu jerked and rolled his eyes. He regained composure once he was done wiping the sweat off his now matted silver bangs and brushing his fingers back through them, creating this utmost sensual eye contact when their intoxicated gazes met—Shinji couldn’t bare but let himself be completely devoured by them, no more strength to maintain his vulnerability whilst bursting at the seams under Kaworu’s touch.

Looking up at bright red eyes combined with the overwhelming feeling of bliss was almost too surreal. No one had ever looked him so endearingly, so happy to be with him.  

“Am I dreaming?”

The words didn’t seem to be his own. He wasn’t certain who he even was anymore. When did his skin begin and end? Was it his mind or his body that was empty?

Despite the fact that he was fixated on the face of the man above him, Shinji couldn’t quite discern his expression. 

He laughed, dazed by the feelings being incited from the boy underneath him.

A laugh that rolled off his skin like sweat—a laugh that rolled off his cheeks like tears.

“Do you often mistake dreams for reality?” He had to pant to get the words out.

( _Do I?_ )

Shinji had to wonder where Kaworu came from, why he always saw him in his sleep. He was always different people but always the same person. His rapid shift away from being an unattainable object was so surreal that it only reinforced that this was not reality. 

“I’ve thought about this before.”

“You keep saying that.”

Kaworu’s lithe fingers pressed down on his wrists, sinking them into the bedsheets. Their flesh kept slapping in rhythm. 

Shinji had to shut his eyes because it all felt like too much, like he might break apart into a million pieces if he kept looking at red eyes. The sound he let out was frightening even to himself, and that’s probably why a mouth closed on his, trapping his feelings in his throat. 

(He desperately wondered if this Kaworu was the real Kaworu. He had to be, right? But, this undeniable separation of his mind and body—he begged to understand what was happening. Could he beg when he had a tongue shoved down his throat?)

Toes sunk into the small of Kaworu’s back. Maybe his skin was as fragile as paper. Maybe he would get paper cuts on his feet. 

Shinji’s ears felt wet.

He heard another strangled sound of desperation scratch at his insides.

( _Do you want to shut me up?_ ) 

They couldn’t stay that way forever. Their mouths separated. 

“Can you let me go?”

The restless pants from above him seemed to be questioning his words.

“I want to hug you...”

The pressure off his wrists was lifted, and Shinji wrapped his arms around his neck. Pulling him closer did not clear up whether he was real or not. His hair was so soft that it itched against his temples. Kaworu slid his thumb up to the boy’s lip. 

(Did it matter if this was a dream or not? He had always wanted Kaworu’s head buried in his shoulder, always wanted to feel like he was separate from himself. This had always happened, and it always will happen. The desperate moans that mingled with the sounds of the bed that mingled with the taste of someone else—they were always there.) 

His fingers sunk into his skin. A real possibility. Maybe they could create a new world together. 

“O-Oh...Kaworu, I’m gonna…”

( _If I come now, it’s over. I can’t go back._ ) 

Breath hot and heavy on his ear. Fingers around them, something hard and throbbing in tandem with his. 

( _It’s way too good. I never felt like this before. He’s moaning and using my body and I can’t stand it._ )

“K-Kaworu!”

“Go ahead. Come for me.” 

Shinji squeezed his thighs tighter, putting a feeble hand arounds Kaworu’s as he jerked both of them. Shinji’s back arched involuntarily and pressed against the other’s hip bones. Kaworu shivered and bit down on his neck, his lips vibrating against Shinji’s flesh as something thick and wet hit his chest and dribbled down his thighs.

“S-Shinji…!”

He gasped and all of the energy burst from them. Covered in themselves. All of his body felt good and hazy. Even his mind seemed to float away.

(This was/wasn’t what he wanted. This was/wasn’t what he dreamed of.)

Pleasure rolled off him, throbbed under his skin. Each wave of it forcing more of his come to leak out. It felt too good to be true, too wonderful to be true. He never came so hard in his life, would he ever need to again? He groaned as the weight on top of him shifted. Would Kaworu still be there once he opened his eyes? He wanted to believe it was true. He desperately wanted him to be real. He wanted this bliss to be real. 

It wasn’t until he heard his name that he snapped back into his body. 

“—inji...Shinji, hey…”

He opened his eyes, blinking to clear the moisture that had built behind his eyelids. Everything looked a little murky. 

“Oh, Shinji...what’s wrong…?” 

The laugh that he let out was more like a sob, but the smile that hurt his cheeks could convince anyone that everything was fine.  

“I think I’m dreaming.”

His fingers were cold when they brushed over his forehead and moved dark hair from his eyes. They cleaned up the trails left over from tears.  

Still, Kaworu had a pained look on his face. 

“You’re not dreaming, Shinji.”

The boy let his hands run from Kaworu’s hair down to his cheeks. He brushed his thumb against his impossibly pale skin, feeling every hill and valley of his face. 

“Then, how are you here with me?” 

“Because I want to be.”

Shinji pulled him down so their lips could lock once again. He certainly felt real and tasted real, but that didn’t really mean anything in the grand scheme of things because a lot of things felt real that ended up being fake. 

Breaking apart, Kaworu flopped down beside him, taking up the other half of the bed. Shinji rolled over to his side so he could meet his brilliant eyes again. Shinji touched the sticky fluids on his chest as he watched them sink down. Kaworu rested a hand on his cheek and smiled.

“You won’t disappear, will you?”

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because you might leave…”

“I’m not going to leave you.”

Shinji wished words and tears wouldn’t fall so freely.

“A-Are you sure?”

He pulled him close so that his arms encompassed all of him. 

“I promise.”

A promise that had always existed and will always exist. It didn’t quite feel real, but it didn’t really feel fake either.

But, then again, it didn’t really matter.

(Either way, they would always break it.)

Kaworu rubbed Shinji’s back and stroked his hair, admiring him through heavy eyes. He cooed softly in his ear until Shinji stopped sniffling into his chest and his brown hair rested against the pillow in peace with his. 

It’s sticky.

 

* * *

 

 

She found it slightly odd that her door was closed. She hadn’t remembered closing it after she grabbed some clothes out of her room at some ungodly hour the night before.

Something felt a bit off.

“Psst, Mari.”

Mari was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She also wiped at a bit of leftover smudged lipstick (not her shade, she noted).

“What?”

“You didn’t close my door this morning, did you?”

“Nope, ma’am. I did no such thing.” Even though her words seemed like they should be jovial, they were more tired as a consequence of last night's debauchery.

Asuka scrunched up her face. Normally, having her door shut for a party wasn’t _that_ weird, but the fact that she had left it open after everyone was gone was what made it slightly worrisome. She hoped she hadn’t gotten robbed.

Turning the knob just enough so the latch clicked, Asuka opened the door so she could peek one eye into the room.

There were bodies.

Her gasp was too hard and too loud, but to be fair, she hadn’t expected people to _be in her fucking bed._

The gasp must have caught Mari’s attention because she said, “What is it?” from inside the bathroom. She spit in the sink and popped her head out from behind the door.

Asuka opened the door a bit further so the hallway light could illuminate the lumps in the bed. 

White hair. _Shit_.

That smug asshole. What fucking nerve. Wait, then who was the other? The door cracked open further. 

(A small dark haired boy. She had woken up next to that boy many times before.)

Oh no.

Fuck.

_ How fucking dare they. _

She was one second away from barging in and screaming at them, but Mari knew her too well and had seen enough of the view inside the room to know what had happened. She grabbed Asuka with one arm around the waist and her other hand over her mouth. Both girls stumbled backward, loud words spilling out that could still be heard from behind her hand. 

“Shhh...shh, Princess, let’s not do this right now.”

Asuka’s hands grabbed at Mari’s grip, her sharp and manicured fingernails digging into her wrists, but Mari was tougher than she looked and barely even flinched.

“What good would it be to wake them up and embarrass them?”

She said something to the effect of, “I want to fucking murder them in their sleep,” but it was obstructed by the hand over her mouth.  

“Hey, hey. I’m not saying you don’t have the right to be angry, but would you want someone to do that to us? I’m not trying to call you out, but you would be very upset if Shinji barged in last night, wouldn’t you?”

Asuka grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. With the door still open, she could only send death glares at the lifeless bodies. What entitled fucking douche bags. How dare they intrude upon her space, defile _her_ belongings? So fucking entitled. It made her sick to her stomach.

Mari let go of Asuka’s waist to close the door, not wanting to accidentally wake the other two unnecessarily. Once that was done, she pulled Asuka into the bathroom and shut that door, too, finally letting go of the girl. 

She exploded as quietly as she could.

“What the fuck! What the fuck. What the fuck.” It was a shouted whisper, if such a thing were possible. “Oh my God, I’m gonna fucking kill them. I’m going to _fucking kill them_.”

“You are allowed to be upset, but also weren’t you the one that said that you didn’t care who he fucked?”

“I’m not mad about that,” she lied. “I’m mad they _slept in my fucking bed!_ ” Her fists clenched and pounded on Mari’s shoulders. It was a little harder than Mari had been expecting, but she expertly grabbed the other girl’s wrists to dampen future blows. 

“I guess the only respectable thing to do is to ask them to wash your sheets.”

“I want them to _burn_ them! I want everything in that damn room that they touched to be burned and the ashes thrown in the ocean. I never want to lay a finger on anything those fucking assholes put their dirty fucking bodies on.”

“Oh, Princess. Aren’t you being a bit harsh? It wasn’t cool to do what they did, but it’s also not the worst thing that could have happened.”

“Fuck you, Four-Eyes. I hope Shinji fucking Ikari burns in fucking hell.”

Humming discontentedly, Mari tilted her head and sighed. 

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

“Oh, don’t act all innocent. You were practically shoving them together last night. You _knew_ this was going to happen.”

“I am not innocent in this, you’re right. But, Princess, I didn’t force them to do anything. Sometimes things will happen that you won’t like, and that’s okay.”

“Ugh, stop telling me how to feel.”

“That’s not what I mean. You can be angry, but don’t take it out on Puppy Boy. You know he’s been having a hard time. Let him sleep now. You can scream at him all you want later.”

Asuka huffed in a sort of resignation, taking her fists back from Mari’s grip. 

“Whatever, they’re still going to pay for new sheets.” 

Mari laughed, adjusting her glasses. 

“I think that’s fair.”

Even though she had agreed to back off, Asuka wasn’t above enacting petty revenge in the future. She couldn’t wait to make Kaworu Nagisa’s life miserable. 

She pushed herself around Mari so she could also brush her teeth as she had intended to do in the first place, but she immediately noticed that it was not in its usual place.

Her growl was nothing short of animalistic. She picked up the object and glared at it as if she was performing some sort of voodoo magic.

“He used _my fucking toothbrush._ ”

When she snapped the toothbrush in half, she hoped that Shinji Ikari snapped in half as well.

 

* * *

 

He’s staring at a webpage. It doesn’t look familiar, but it’s interesting that it describes the end of the world.

( _The Pillars which support the heavens shall crumple and rain like spears down onto Earth below—_ ) 

It sounds like a prophecy, but he had never been the superstitious type.  

What a load of crap. 

“Shinji?”

Realizing that he was not alone, Shinji’s head snaps to his right, a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement being all he can get out because he isn’t prepared to see red eyes peering over at him.

“Huh?”

“Are you alright, Shinji?”

“K-Kaworu…?”

He looks different than he usually does. His eyes are wide and quizzical. The Kaworu he knows looks like he knows everything, but this person next to him has a refreshingly curious air about him. It makes him look younger, almost like he is a separate Kaworu all together.  

Before he can stop himself, Shinji’s gaze falls to his uniform. It’s different than the one he wears—Kaworu is wearing a snazzy black blazer and trousers, a white dress shirt, and a black tie adorned with a cross.

(Does he look great in everything he wears? Or, is he just too far gone when it comes to him that he’s unable to be objective?)

Shinji’s vacant stare seems to make Kaworu’s eyes grow wider.

(He’s playing that game that Kensuke and Toji are obsessed with. Kaworu never struck him as a gamer, but he’s learning new things about him everyday.)

“O-Oh, yeah. I’m fine. I was just thinking…”

“About that webpage?”

“Uh...yeah…”

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much. We made it, after all.”

“Huh?”

Kaworu looks like he’s about to respond, but there isn’t enough time.

A blast of light and wind makes Shinji fall backwards, tumbling out of the computer chair only to do somersaults on concrete. It hurts, and for a second, he can’t see. That light may have blinded him. Or, maybe he just needed to open his eyes.  

Immediately, he sees a body lay limp and lifeless in a pile of rubble.

“No—”

Silver hair. A black uniform.

“Kaworu!”

Shinji does his best to rush over to him, but he’s slow, like he’s wading through water. When he does make it to Kaworu, he’s relieved to see his back rise and fall, but there’s blood trickling from his mouth. His hand goes to his back, trying to nudge him into consciousness, but he feels warmth seep onto his hand.

Jerking away, he’s horrified to see that his hand is coated in blood.

“ _Do you know whose blood is on your hands?_ ”

The next thing he knows, he’s being reached for by a man with black hair and a leer that could probably kill him.  

(Black angel wings.)

Inside of his chest, he feels a squeezing sensation. If he had been paying attention, it had actually been there all along, getting worse as the scene had been playing out. It squeezes and squeezes, and Shinji feels like he might burst apart. Maybe his rib cage will split open, and his heart will roll out onto the pavement.  

Something inside him snaps. At the mercy of this sudden burst of energy, all he can do is scream. His right hand burns so badly, he thinks the skin may burn off.

Then, it’s here. He raises his arm, grasps it with both hands, and fires.

(It looks like a gun, but he knows what it really is.)

The kickback has him thrown back onto the ground. Shinji hits his head, but that’s not the reason why he loses consciousness. 

It doesn’t last too long. Shinji hears a loud _bang!_ and shoots up in bed. But, this bedroom is not his dorm room. It’s not his room back home. It’s clean but lived in. It’s definitely his, but he doesn’t recognize it. Looking around gives him a surreal feeling, like he’s experienced this exact moment somewhere other than now.

The doorbell rings. 

He’s in front of his door, twisting the knob to reveal Kaworu in an oversized turtleneck.  

He’s standing in front of Kaworu with juice in his hand. Kaworu mopes, curled up next to Shinji’s bed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m a terrible guest.” 

“No, you’re not. I’m glad you came.”

“I couldn’t even remember to bring something to drink.” 

Shinji sits down next to him and hands one of the cans of juice to Kaworu. He smiles.

“I don’t mind. You just surprised me by showing up so late, that’s all.”

“You probably think I’m weird.” 

“We’re all a little weird. It would be weirder if you were completely normal.”

He doesn’t know why, but Kaworu’s slightly downtrodden expression makes his hand move. He’s patting the top of his head, and Kaworu gives him this _look_ , one that is full of disbelief and confusion.

He’s staring. It’s even worse because his eyes are so red.

(Shinji’s face grows warm.) 

“W-What?”

Kaworu’s gaze shifts. He’s looking up at something. Shinji turns to look, but such a simple action has caused them to be in a different place altogether.

His chest swells with a feeling he doesn’t understand.

In front of him is a tree. It’s not like anything he’s ever seen. It’s almost like it’s plated in gold. It shimmers and glows even though there’s no discernible light source. If he didn’t know any better, Shinji would say that there are hands interlaced between the branches.  

(This tree feels alive with more than just the power of mother nature.)

Leaves flutter around him. They force him to feel sorrow, but he doesn’t know why. What is he grieving for? Who is he going to lose?

A golden leaf falls into the palm of his hand.

“Shinji?”

Kaworu is still next to him, still looking spooked, as if Shinji were a specter. 

“Kaworu…”

“Shinji,” he whispers, red eyes piercing through him. “Shinji, are you dreaming right now?”

And, he wakes up.

 

* * *

 

Shinji’s eyes snapped open.

His first thought was that he felt disgusting. His mouth was dry, and his body ached. He felt sticky. The headache he had was a nasty one and made him feel disorientated. But, that disorientation might have been from something else altogether because his second thought was, ( _Unfamiliar ceiling_ ).

Wait. Why didn’t he recognize this ceiling? That didn’t make sense. Shouldn’t he be in his dorm room? 

Thinking back to the events of the party, things started to get kind of hazy after the Spin the Bottle fiasco. Oh, right, he threw up. In front of Kaworu.

Wait.

Kaworu.

Shinji’s head snapped to his right, his hair rustling against the pillow that wasn’t his. It smelled like lavender perfume.

_Kaworu_.

He couldn’t hold in the gasp that hurt his lungs. Never had Shinji thought he would see the image of silver hair messy and squished against pastel bed sheets, eyelids protecting his red eyes from the sunlight that poured through the window and illuminated his pale skin. Tiny fluttering breaths made his chest rise and fall gently. 

(He had the urge to reach out and touch him.)

That was when Shinji realized that Kaworu was not wearing clothes. Now that he checked, lifting the bed sheet off his own body just a bit, he wasn’t wearing clothes either. 

Oh, shit.  

The events of the previous night snapped back into Shinji’s mind rapidly. The arms around his waist, the arms around his shoulders, the hungry looks, the slamming of the door, the slamming against the wall, lips, knees, hands— 

“Oh my god.”

_That happened._

Oh no.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

He had sex with Kaworu.

Anxiety twinged inside Shinji’s chest. It mingled with the intense feeling of joy that the idea evoked from his brain. It was simultaneously the greatest feeling in the world but also the worst. Right now, the anxiety caused by the shock was overwhelming most other emotions.

Shinji sat up and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t believe this was happening. This time, he actually did pinch himself to see if he was dreaming. 

He wasn’t.

There was a tiny groan that came from next to him. Shinji’s head snapped to look at the other body return to the land of the living. Grey lashes batted over confused rubies once, twice, three times. It must have been interesting that the first thing he seemed to register was the look of horror on Shinji’s face. Kaworu’s face slowly devolved into a similar expression as the reality of the situation began to dawn on him.

He sat up quickly, a hand rubbing over his entire face, probably in an effort to wake up from this embarrassing wet dream that wasn’t actually a dream at all. It also struck Shinji that Kaworu wasn’t aware he was naked because the bed sheet fell slightly lower than what could be considered decent. Shinji averted his eyes, a flush lighting up his cheeks.

Kaworu was still rubbing his eyes when he groaned. It was an unsettling sound, like he had just been punched in the gut. Shinji didn’t know if it was because he was hungover, because of the situation, or both. 

Probably both.

(Oh, man, his mind couldn’t stop flashing to the things he saw last night, the things he _did_ last night. It was so...embarrassing. But, like, not embarrassing enough he wished it hadn’t happened, but he had to admit that dirty things were said, and dicks were in mouths, and they were probably still covered in dried versions of each other’s fluid, and Jesus Christ, this was embarrassing.)

“K-Kaworu...uh—”

“I’m sorry.” 

When Shinji looked back at him, Kaworu had adjusted his bed sheet. He also looked distraught. It was similar to the look he had given him in the bathroom the night before.

“But, I—”

“I am the adult in this situation, and I have failed you as your superior.”

His eyes looked so sincere, so _sad_ , like he actually believed that he had wronged Shinji in an irredeemable way.

But, Shinji couldn’t quite convince himself that what happened was a bad thing.

“Kaworu, don’t be so hard on yourself.” Shinji hated that his words sounded small and unconvincing, but it was more because he couldn’t quite believe what was happening rather than he doubted what he was saying. “I’m an adult, too. I wouldn’t have done anything if I didn’t _want_ to.”

“You may be an adult in the eyes of the law, but the brain does not stop development until later.”

Shinji pursed his lips.

“You’re making it sound like I can’t make my own decisions.”

Red eyes immediately softened, going from hard and analytical to that sorrowful look again. 

“I apologize. I didn’t intend to make you feel that way.” 

Shinji felt his heart jump into his throat. Why did he look so cute even when he was sad? 

(How long had he been repressing his own impure thoughts about him? It was strange how quickly his mind spun out of control, thinking about when he could get his hands on him again, when he could put his lips all over him again.)

He turned away, his hand trying to cover his growing flush.

“I just mean to say that this was extremely irresponsible of me. My position in your life should not be so intimate.”

His words elicited grief in Shinji’s chest. Even though he still was wearing a steady blush, he met Kaworu’s eyes again. 

“But, what if I—” 

“It would be detrimental to you if I allowed such a thing to continue. I should not have taken advantage of you and your feelings.”

“Kaworu, no, you didn’t…” He was whining. How childish. “How can you say that?”

“Shinji—”

He also hated that there were probably tears hanging in his eyes.

“This wouldn’t have happened if we both didn’t...I don’t know—like each other, I guess. I mean, you do, right? You wouldn’t have done _all this_ just for anyone, would you?”

Shinji must have actually sounded as small and sad as he thought because Kaworu himself looked to be on the verge of tears. What he hadn’t expected is that his eyes were even more beautiful when they were slightly glassy. 

“Shinji, I—”

The younger boy had a pained look on his face as he inched closer. He had the covers pulled to his chest in a vain attempt to cover himself, but it seemed a bit ridiculous since they had both seen enough of each other the night before.  

“Can I hug you?”

Kaworu wondered if the pressure in his chest was his heart breaking into pieces. This poor boy was so deeply infatuated with him, and he had gone and made it worse. Before, he hadn’t even allowed himself to think about how he felt, how Shinji felt, but now, confronting it was unavoidable. He wasn’t even sure how he felt because he had not let his sober mind even entertain the idea. 

And, here Shinji was, bleary-eyed and practically begging for his affection. It was confusing, at the very least. 

However, the way he was looking at him now was breaking down his will to resist fairly swiftly.

“I suppose.”

There was a small flicker of relief in Shinji’s eyes, lips curling ever so slightly. He moved even closer, arms wrapping around his shoulders, head falling into the crook of his neck.

(Kaworu hated that this proximity made sticky feelings well in his chest. He hadn’t felt like this since he was a schoolboy. Maybe he had blocked out that part of him a long time ago.)

Despite them both being unshowered, Shinji had a sort of sweet scent to him. It reminded Kaworu of how Rei smelled as an infant, which he had to admit was a strange and disturbing thought in itself. But, the way he squeaked when Kaworu returned the hug, squeezing at his waist, only made the feeling in his chest worse. Shinji did that thing that people did when they cried—rubbing his forehead on his shoulder—but Shinji seemed to be fairly contented. Was he just trying to make sure he was real? 

He pulled away, but he did so very reluctantly, giving Kaworu a look that he could only describe as awe. Shinji lifted a hand from the back of Kaworu’s neck and let his fingers lightly graze over the top of his head, feeling the soft texture of his hair.

Okay, this was getting out of hand again. 

“Shinji, this isn’t—”

“You’re just so pretty, Kaworu.”

This caused the young man to breathe out a little too heavily. Such comments on his appearance were common, but he knew this was different, at least, now it was.

“Do you not like me?” 

Shinji’s direct question was even sadder because he had let go of him, eyes directed toward the floor.

“I care about you, which is why this is an unfortunate situation.” 

“No. I don’t mean like that. I know you ‘empathize’ with me or whatever. That’s not what I’m asking.”

Of course, he knew that. Kaworu just had never had to have this conversation when the answer wasn’t, “Please get out of my house.” It was absurd because the fact that his response was not automatic was proof that, at some point, he had let his affection for the boy bleed into rather unprofessional waters.  

And, of course, when he looked so sad, so defeated by his direct actions—well, Kaworu had the urge to cry himself.

Basically, the moral of the story is Feelings are Bad.

“I guess it would be ridiculous to deny it.”

He really did seem like a child, face lighting up in relieved shock at his words. But, apparently, he had given him the wrong idea because that was when Shinji grabbed Kaworu’s cheeks and planted a hungry kiss on his lips. 

Kaworu’s first response was not to resist because he did feel familiar and right, but without the alcohol to stoke his lack of inhibition, he knew that this could only end badly. He did his best to lightly push him away. 

Shinji looked like he had been slapped in the face. 

“We can’t do this.”

“But, why—”

“Shinji, you know why.” 

“But, if you like me, too, then it’s—”

“I hold a professional place in your life, and such actions are wildly inappropriate.”

This time, Shinji looked angry.

“Well, that’s already fucked up, anyway! Do you really think things can go back to normal if we just _forget about it?_ ” 

Kaworu hated to admit that he was right.

“This... _predicament_ seriously challenges our future professional relationship. It is questionable, no, doubtful whether I can continue treatment with you in light of the boundaries I’ve haphazardly crossed with you, Shinji. Even if we continue our previous relationship, it’s unwise to pursue _this_ further.”  

“I _don’t care_ if it’s ‘ _unwise,_ ’ or whatever. You’re the only thing that can make me feel happy anymore.”

It was Kaworu’s turn to look away, the weight of Shinji’s words affecting him more than they should have. He remained silent.

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. You can feel it too, right? Like we’re supposed to be together?”

Again, Kaworu did not say anything. He knew the feeling that Shinji was describing, but his guilty conscience forced him not to respond. 

“Everyone leaves me. _Everyone_. I don’t have anyone anymore, but Kaworu—you’re different. You’re so kind. You wouldn’t leave me, would you?”

A boy, so small, so cute, so sad. Eyes full of tears. Eyes pleading for any type of affection. He knew how little of it he received, and this was just making it worse. His face looked so pained. It was distressing.

“There’s so much about living that I hate. I’ve tried really hard not to think that way, but I do really hate everything. But, I don’t hate you, Kaworu. You know? I could never hate you. But, I—” He stopped talking, looking like the words had physically gotten caught in his throat.  

He wished he had words to say, but he didn’t. Kaworu felt like he had lost the ability to speak. Shinji seemed to be aware of this.

“Kaworu. Please say something.”

After a breath and a shake of the head, he allowed for a wisp of truth to slip out.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Shinji’s rise in tone and the way his hands closed into loose fists made it clear that he was nervous. 

“You won’t! I promise! You already make me so happy. Really. Please, Kaworu. If you feel like how I feel then you know that being apart is worse. Isn’t last night proof of that?”

“Shinji…”

“Kaworu. I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life. Please.”

How awful. What an awful situation. This poor boy. Any answer would be detrimental to him. To suddenly rip away after they had been so intimate would probably ruin him, but to agree to continue to exploit the situation would eventually hurt worse.

(But, there was also a selfish urge within him to eat him up, to indulge in every endearingly cute mannerism, to make him sound so desperate, to make him say his name. It was a devious urge, one he constantly suppressed in an effort to maintain his air of aloof normalcy. But, this boy pleading with him, begging him to give into his already overwhelming desires was almost too much for him to bear.)

Kaworu’s prolonged silence must have indicated to Shinji that he was not going to protest because his arms hooked behind the other man’s neck once again, and he pecked him softly. This was one of the things that made it so hard for Kaworu to say no. He enjoyed Shinji almost like a fine wine or a piece of tender veal. If he let himself think of it, he would have to admit that he was delicious—tantalizing—just so fucking cute.

This made him feel guilty. He felt guilty that he kissed Shinji back. He felt guilty that he let his hand run up the side of his abdomen and felt a flash of pleasure when he squeaked in surprise.  

Shinji was right, of course. Nothing could ever be the same between them. Once that Pandora’s Box had been opened, it had been all over. Especially in an art so intensely personal as psychotherapy, there would always be the haunting fact that they were almost ridiculously drawn to each other. Kaworu thought he could stop it, thought he could hide it away deep within himself, but due to the nature of his profession, he was more than aware that he could not keep it away forever.  

And, it was also true that Kaworu wanted him badly, although it hadn’t been as apparent because he wasn’t being honest with himself. To be fair, he had a good reason to pretend nothing was happening, but it happened anyway, and there wasn’t much he could do to stop it.

Shinji pushed Kaworu backward so his back hit the mattress, and he let his hands wander over his stomach and chest, cherishing the feeling of his skin under his fingers. Kaworu both enjoyed and was disgusted with his body’s reaction to Shinji’s fleeting touches. His small groan must have made Shinji realize his hands were wandering a bit too much because he pulled away, breaking the kiss.

“Sorry.”

Instead of admonishing him, Kaworu chuckled.

“I’m sorry, too.”

The boy smiled.

“I’ve never felt this happy to be apologizing.”

Fuck Shinji Ikari for being so goddamn cute.

Kaworu couldn’t help the tugging at the corners of his mouth.   

How disgusting.

 


	7. Fetishism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth hurts, but secrets kill  
> Can’t help thinking that I love it still  
> Still here—it must be something real
> 
> Give me those eyes, it's easy to forgive  
> 

The drive was quiet.

It was far too early for even the most accursed strange visitor to jump out of a strange bed in terror and splash cold water on their face, only to be faced with the tragedy of a passionate night. It was the time in which the beginning and the end were the same—an eerie mask of fog barely illuminated by the swallowed sun. Not even did the freshly fallen snow twinkle as an Uber’s headlights passed over the road. Shinji continuously ruffled his oily bangs. He could feel the acne comedones forming as the sweat of his face rubbed against his hair. He didn’t care. He was too focused on supporting his throbbing forehead. Kaworu was also finally shown disheveled; somehow paler in a sickly way. His eyes sunk in. Shinji was fixated on the purple vessels tracing his bags. Kaworu looked forward, monitoring the driver’s phone GPS. 

“We’re here.”

“Thank you, Happy Holidays.” Kaworu buttoned the neck of his leather jacket and stepped out first. 

The—quite literal—cold shoulder of Kaworu’s back facing him, as Kaworu tapped on his phone and marked the five-star default, burned Shinji’s sore retinas. Shinji nearly stumbled on black ice as he was taken aback by the cement ledge far too soon, only to be saved by the loose fabric of hide. It was soft. 

Cold fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

Kaworu broke the silence between them. “Shinji! Are you okay?!”

His sharp exhale was opaque in the soft wind slapping their faces with jolting, frigid air. 

(He was stronger than he looked. His grip was way too tight.)

“Y-Yeah…” He huffed, rolling his wrist. Kaworu twisted his face, releasing his grasp and clearing his throat. “I just lost my balance.”

“Try to be more careful. I’m guessing you didn’t sleep quite well either. A night or two without sleep may be as intoxicating as a few drinks.”

It still felt surreal to be in the presence of a superior, who had been dethroned from his pedestal and was now rubbing his temples with a twisted expression.

Shinji shifted his eyes away and up a tall brick wall, a matrix of windows lining up towards a sculpted balcony. Vines and moss had dried along the frozen cement. Snow plopped from windowsills and melted into a puddle of dirty ice in front of the entrance. 

In the elevator, Shinji and Kaworu diverted their direct gaze and spoke to the reflections on either side of them. A dirtied red carpet, moistened by the tracks of dozens of snow boots. Shinji’s white sneakers had now taken on a yellow tinge. He would alternate his gaze back and forth from the floor to Kaworu’s reflection. Kaworu stared tentatively as the numbers rose on the LCD display. He cracked his fingers one-handedly, pressing his thumb against his knuckles. The cracking noise made Shinji slightly cringe. This elevator was way too fast and shifted harshly with each floor that passed. It was only eight, but however many it was, Shinji felt as if they had traveled dozens. 

“This way.”

“Hmph.”

Kaworu led Shinji to the right of the corridor, digging in his pockets for a key. The keyring shook loosely in the spotted brass lock as he shimmied the mahogany door open. These doors blended together in Shinji’s vision, and he couldn’t keep track of how they ended up in front of this particular apartment.

Kaworu’s dwelling was moderate—an adequate size for a bachelor with room to spare, a small sitting space separated from a resting area by the change of wood to carpet flooring. An ivory bookshelf lined with psychology texts (both popular and textbook renditions) and some interesting literature whose names Shinji had heard repeated in English classes yet had not the willpower to read.

_Infinite Jest_ was placed face down on a faux-leather recliner. Pretentiously thick, but spared from eyes in Kaworu’s private library. 

A small bell ran down the hallway, greeting them both with an arched back, shivering tail, and demanding meowing. 

Kaworu immediately perked up. In a raised voice, he said, “Hello, Ramiel. Ah, who's a pretty girl? Who's that boy? Who's that strange boy? Yeah, I know you’re hungry.”

Shinji held his breath as the cat brushed its side along his legs, winding between them and slinking its rat tail against him. 

She was ugly in a cute kind of way. 

Kaworu rubbed her wrinkly cheeks with his thumbs—his infant—making cooing noises that could not help but relief Shinji’s stress. He smiled. 

“C-Can I pet her?”

“Mhmm. She loves to be pet. She likes boys. Don’t you? Yeah. I know.”

The cat mewed in tandem. 

Shinji had never seen a hairless cat and had not expected the peach fuzz running along her body to be so smooth and hot. 

“I’ll be right back.”

Kaworu went into the kitchen, leaving Shinji to treat the cat to some new attention. She scurried away when she heard the can opener, and Shinji took this as a cue to follow her. 

“She’s—ah—very cute, Kaworu.”

“She’s special.”

Kaworu faced Shinji for the first time since they’d entered the complex. Then, he glanced at his watch, sighing and dropping his smile. “Drink some water, there’s a Brita in the fridge. There’s a bathroom down the hall, to the right. You can rest and eat whatever there is around here, though it’s not much.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I have to go somewhere soon. Shinji?” 

Shinji turned his focus off the mesmerizing ticking. 12:21 pm.

“Kaworu…”

“Shinji, I brought you here because I wanted to talk with you.”

“I knew that, but, I—About last night—”

“You mustn’t tell anyone a word about this, Shinji. I’m sorry. I really fucked up.”

“No, Kaworu, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I care about you, but I don’t know if we can associate any longer.”

“But, Kaworu. Kaworu, why? Kaworu?”

“—Because I may be in serious trouble. I may lose my position. This was a mistake.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Shinji, have some water.”

“No, I don’t care!”

“Please, try to calm down.”

“Kaworu, please—”

“Shinji, you know I care about you. It’s not just about my career—in counseling or academia—but also because I’ve taken advantage of you.”

“You didn’t take advantage of me! I-I wanted it, too.”

“You don't understand the reasonings counteracting your verbal consent in the face of our social roles towards one another.”

“Stop saying that!”

“You don't get it! You're just a child!”

Shinji's blood froze when Kaworu grabbed his shirt and pulled his face closer to his. Maybe due to heavy beads forming in his field of vision, Shinji swore that Kaworu's pupils constricted into thin slits in some characterization of this inexplicable aggression—some expression that defied the imaginary bounds of Kaworu's emotional range. Kaworu was much taller than Shinji remembered, yet then again, he had never been stared down by him. 

Kaworu had never seen Shinji _tremble._

_ He's terrified. Of me. _

After a brief gasp, Kaworu softened. But, the fire in his chest lingered even as it was dampened by the tears Shinji could no longer restrain from falling off his lashes, opening the floodgates of frustration.

“Don't touch me!”

Kaworu's hands were shaking and pulling at the seams of Shinji's shirt.

“I…I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—”

Kaworu released his strained knuckles and could only react to the rebounding tension by slamming his elbows on the counter and holding his head, pulling down on the messy locks that weaved between his aching fingers.

“Dammit.”

( _Why am I so angry? What's making me angry? Am I angry at Shinji? No. That's not it._ )

Shinji opened his mouth, but only the most pathetic, cracked whimper came out.

“Shinji…”

Kaworu perked and slid the counter chair away from the path between them. He gently held back the hair off Shinji's brow, unable to resist placing a light peck on his forehead and then pulling him tightly into his chest. 

Shinji's paralyzation was delicately undone in the brief respite of Kaworu's thin fingers running through his hair and the fluttering heartbeat against his cheek.  Shinji was too overwhelmed and sympathetic to fight. He had never responded to a threatening horror with such instinctive submission.

Kaworu was more revolted at these impulsive behaviors than at the acts he committed with those who shared his covers. With anyone but Shinji, it seemed.

“I'm sorry, shhh, don't. Please don't cry.”

Shinji mumbled something into Kaworu's collar.

Kaworu's chest panged at his own inability to remain a neutral party. He had already broken a delicate relationship he and Shinji had worked months to build.

“Please don’t leave me, Kaworu. You’re all I have now.”

“Shinji—”

The pang became the rhythm of a cell phone pinging.

Kaworu looked over Shinji’s shoulder, then back down at him. Slowly, he peeled the fragile boy off his chest and wiped the dried salt off his cheeks.

“Shinji, I’m so sorry—I have to go. I have very important plans today.”

A newborn pup could not replicate the intensity of Shinji’s melting gaze. Kaworu swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“So...you’re just going to leave me again?” Shinji sniffled.

Dramatic. 

How can you even try to mend these knotted threads? Can you weave your fingers through them and try to gently unravel them with your blunt fingernails? Do you give up hope and cut off parts of the ties and pray to God that you are left with enough length to make another braid?

Kaworu sighed. “Shinji, I promise you I will come back for you later. Please feel free to use my apartment as you like. You may make any food you like, though there is not much to spare. If you get an Uber or order food, I will repay you. Just rest for now—just lie down on my couch. You look so tired.”

“Oh…”

“I will only be gone a few hours. I will not leave you stranded here all day. You will be back in your dorm or in your home by tonight, I promise you. Is that okay? Shinji?”

( _I don’t want to go back._ )

Kaworu’s soft palm resting against his cheek was all too persuasive—the burden of his aching neck and congested soul supported by a cool touch.

“Okay...I want to believe you, Kaworu...I do believe in you.”

(Could he risk not believing?)

 

* * *

 

Same time, same place, same table.

If nothing else was stable in Kaworu’s life (particularly recently), at least he could find comfort in Rei never being late.

It wasn’t a very cold winter, in fact, he hadn’t even had to break out his fuzzy parka. 

(It’s ironic how—like weather—people can shift in temperature in just a few hours.) 

Rei practically looked like an infant swaddled in every article of clothing she could get her hands on (a hat with little rabbits on it, a brown scarf that must have been longer than she was tall, approximately one shirt and two sweaters, jeans, and outdated Ugg boots from when she was in high school). She had taken off her coat, which was hung on the back of her chair, but the rest of her get-up stayed on.

With a book in her hands, Kaworu had to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention.

“Hello, Rei. How have you been?”

She peered up at him, offering a smile that could barely be considered one in the first place—at least not to the undiscerning eye. Pleasantries had never really been their strong suit, especially since Rei was rarely ever actually fine and tended to miss every social queue offered to her, but they both seemed keen on upholding the charade. 

“Fine. I assume you’ve been well.”

As well as he could be considering the circumstances.

“I have been, yes. Would you like the usual?”

“Please.”

Rei was rather regimented for someone so young, which caused her to be predictable for the most part. Their catch-up coffee dates were always in the small, family-owned shop just off campus, and she always ordered a large green tea and a low-fat whole wheat cranberry muffin. Kaworu had resigned to just ordering it for her so she wasn’t getting up and sitting down more often than necessary. Buying her refreshments was the least he could do, as being busy had him slightly more absent than he would like.

When Kaworu sat down across from her with both of their orders, Rei set her book down, taking the cup of tea in her hands as if she were trying to absorb the heat from it. Her eyes momentarily drifted over the table (tea, muffin, latte, some sort of fruit tart), drifted over Kaworu’s face, and then locked onto something in the window behind him. 

“How is the research going?”

Kaworu absentmindedly stirred the thin red straw in his latte. He tried to catch what Rei was captured by outside the window, but then remembered it was quite awkward and rude for two people to sit across from one another without making eye-contact. Not that he could catch what she was fixated on, in any case.

“Ah, you know how it is. Tedious. Spending more time entering numbers into spreadsheets than actually conducting research.”

“I see.”

Rei took a sip of her tea, which was probably still much too hot, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Have you been up to anything lately?”

To anyone else, the question would be condescending, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“No. Mom is insisting I re-enroll.”

“So soon? That sounds a bit overzealous on her part. However, she always has been quite demanding.”

Rei’s focus went back to the food on the table, eyeing Kaworu’s pastry intensely. Her fingers picked off the smallest piece of muffin before popping it in her mouth.

“Yes. If I didn’t know any better, I would think this is punishment for last time.”

‘Last time,’ of course, referred to the most recent time she was slammed back into the hospital for not being enough of a person.

“Hmm. I wouldn’t put it past her, but I urge you to not jump to such conclusions. It’s useless to ruminate on circumstances that cannot be changed.” Kaworu swirled the coffee stirrer in his drink, messing up the delicate foam on top. “Do you want to go back to school?”

“Not particularly.”

“I don’t think it’s wise to pursue a degree that you aren’t invested in earning. At that point, it would just be an unnecessary stressor.”

Rei looked liked she was about to take another piece of muffin, but instead, wrapped her hand back around the too hot mug. 

 

* * *

 

Shinji would like to imagine that Kaworu suffered. Suffered for breaking their embrace, suffered for losing his temper, suffered for not only having—but showing—a side of himself which was downright scary. 

Yet, as Kaworu closed the door slowly behind him, feigning a smile in reassurance, Shinji could not resist the corners of his lips pulling upwards. The lock clicked, and Shinji instantaneously mourned for the loss of Kaworu's presence. 

So, he stared passively at the door until Ramiel ran her body against him. A creature as rare as Kaworu, as exotic. A special creature. Something like that. The kind other cultures may carve upon a pedestal. 

But, it was just a cat rolling her back along the floor and begging for Shinji to supply tummy rubs. Shinji hissed back as the cat rejected his stake in one rub too many. 

He became aware of the ticking once more. It had not even been three minutes since Kaworu left. Now that Kaworu was gone, though, Shinji could actually properly notice his surroundings.

( _A few hours he said? Well...as long as I don’t leave anything out of place._ )

Time to snoop.

Though Kaworu’s apartment was relatively cramped, even for a lone bachelor and his special cat, Kaworu had somehow managed to cram an obscene amount of fetishes around his dwelling. They simply blended in with the contemporary fixtures. Shinji imagined Kaworu assembling Ikea furniture, scratching his head and asking his cat for advice on the undiscerning part in a futile effort. Kaworu would then find some cool, indie library and teach himself Swedish from a book in a few hours—all for the sake of assembling a coffee table which was never intended to actually hold drinks. That would ruin the finish. 

Down the hallway, there were three doors. Shinji peaked into the first to the right. That was perhaps the natural inclination for him as his unconscious expectation was confirmed when he faced a bathroom. Befitted for a house, the bathroom encompassed a size that Kaworu’s kitchen ought to. One would never expect a full bath in an apartment this size in any case: an ample jacuzzi tub across from a glass sink below some vanity mirror embedded with fancy LED lights, beside one of those weird showers with a fancy shower head with multiple settings and a small waterproof radio just underneath it. The bathroom even had its own bathroom, the toilet and—oh my fucking god, he has a _fucking bidet_ —hidden within a smaller space behind a door. It’s all the kinds of ridiculousness that Shinji expected Kaworu’s bathroom to look like. 

Once Shinji had the sickly sweet pleasure of using his bathroom—Kaworu’s bathroom— _oh my god. I’m in his house. I can’t, I can’t even believe it_ —he turned his attention to figuring out how to open the shelved mirror so he could snoop and decipher what in God’s name Kaworu wears to smell so intoxicating. He was giddy to find some particular nuances in Kaworu’s hygiene routine: He had contacts, but never wore them. He used whitening stripes—ah ha, a dirty secret. He used some fancy (women’s?) shampoo (‘For Silver Hair’), lavender body wash, some musky cologne, a well-used electronic toothbrush, and...medications? 

Shinji turned the amber bottles to not disturb their place, imagining that this was a particularly invasive temptation and somehow Kaworu would be the type to put every bottle in a particular place and order. He couldn’t pronounce the names on the labels, but he had his phone and Kaworu had given him his wifi password: password123.

Listed on the bottles were:

Bupropion 300mg  
Risperidone 2mg  
Amphetamine Salts 10mg  
Vyvanse 60mg  
Ferrous Sulfate 65mg  
Xanax 5mg

Xanax? Shinji saw some reality show where someone was having an intervention for, among other things, snorting this drug. It’s special, right? Also...amphetamine...meth? Was that how Kaworu got through all those classes, and a job, internship-thingy?

This is bad. Really awful. 

The stories which quickly popped up on Google teased him as they all contained variations of the highly-suggestive phrase “...gets you high?” Shinji couldn’t help but slip a few of each into his own portable pill box attached to his key ring.

Terrible. 

 

* * *

 

“Why aren’t you eating?” she asked.

Kaworu furrowed his eyebrows for a split second before remembering what she meant.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He picked up the tart and took a bite. Rei picked off an even smaller muffin crumb than last time, if that were possible. Kaworu absently wondered if Rei would entertain the idea of purchasing a homeopathic low-fat whole wheat cranberry muffin. There probably aren’t any calories in a muffin diluted to one part per trillion.

“I didn’t care for college, anyway.”

“It certainly is not for everyone. It’s not just you who finds it intolerable. I see many students in my office who swear it's the bane of their existence. The trend I’ve noticed is a shift away from technical schooling and more parents insisting their child earn a ‘more profitable’ skill set. But, the reality of the situation is that square pegs are being forced into round holes, and that conflict has a negative impact on one’s self-image and worldview. On the other hand, I suppose it would be my job to help them cope with such discrepancies.” 

(Therapy is one way to do that. Fucking kids is another.)

Well, so much for evading his guilty conscience. Just when he thought he could find a small reprieve from his current situation, it just came crawling right back.

Rei’s eyes had finally focused on Kaworu’s face, but he was too busy organizing his thoughts to notice.

“Am I the square peg in this metaphor?”

He chuckled, being brought back down to Earth by Rei’s very, very dry sense of humor.

“I suppose. Although, I would assert that you had the foresight to remove yourself before it became too large of a predicament.” Rei had her own set of problems, and adding school to that list proved to be just another breaking point in her long journey of various breaking points. “It’s a shame that Mother can’t respect your autonomy a bit more. She let up on me quite a bit over the years.”

“It’s because you’re the good child.”

“Oh, don’t say that.”

“I don’t really care. But, it’s useless to deny it.”

Her words seemed sad to Kaworu’s ears, but she didn’t seem to mind. However, the last time Kaworu took her word for it, she wound up with a broken leg.

“You’re wonderful, Rei. I promise you that.” He leaned forward, placing his hand over hers in an attempt to convey his affection for the girl. Her fingers were cold. At least her eyes seemed to be a little warmer, even if her expression didn’t change. “For one thing, you never ran away like I did.”

She stared at him in a “you’ve got me there” kind of way. 

“Sometimes I wonder if that would be a good option.”

“It’s...not. I’m not sure if Mother has ever forgiven me.” His finger traced along a divot in the table. “Though, I suppose that doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

Another sip of tea.

“She misses you.” 

“I’m sure she does.”

“Dad does too. Maybe you could visit sometime.” The side of her mouth twitched as if she had attempted a smile but then decided against it. 

“It _has_ been a while since I’ve been back home. I’ve just been very busy—” The sound of a chime rang from his coat pocket. He turned and retrieved his phone, tapping the home button to reveal the name.

_ Mari: Message (1) _

Shit.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” he mumbled, sliding his thumb along the screen.

[ _Mari: Oh Princey Boy~! I just wanted to let you know that Princess requests you pay for new sheets as she wishes for her current ones to be incinerated. I would let her tell you herself but there might be too many profanities to make sense of the message. Fun night tho right? ;)_ ]

Dammit. Mari and Asuka already knew? Not good. Even if he had reluctantly agreed to—well—be _something_ more than a therapist to Shinji, word going around was out of the question. Not only would it be disastrous for his own career, but Shinji could be caught in the crossfire as well. 

And, he was going to try his damnedest not to hurt the poor boy, even if it was inevitable. 

Kaworu’s mouth pressed into a thin line. How many ethical dilemmas must he face in a week? He sighed loudly, much louder than he intended, before deciding with confidence that he was to make that decision later.

 

* * *

 

Shinji had already left the scene of a crime to come into what looked like another scene of a crime. 

Worn and unworn clothes barely missing an overflowed hamper, randomly scattered shoes, socks, folders, papers along the floor. Shirts and trousers hung out of an overstuffed dresser. On top of such dresser, identical, ⅙ scale _Davids_ faced Shinji and produced disappointed looks as he noticed the shopping bags and food wrappers littering the statues’ feet. His sheets were halfway towards meeting his pillows and comforter on the floor. Oh, that’s right. Of course, he’d have a King. A well-worn one. 

It was in his bedroom, ironically so close to a barren guest room (modified cat-pen), that would be the seat of his apparent hoarding behavior. Kaworu would deny it outright and say that it’s his “organized mess,” that he knew where everything was regardless of how wildly displaced everything was. Then, he would be late to class because he couldn’t find the second sock and he refused to go out without matching socks, even if it was a cold day and no one but him would know that he had godforsaken mismatched socks under long trousers. 

Yet, he would never let another person help him clean, citing they would lose things for him.

The desk beside his bed was stacked with books littered with sticky notes off their bindings, uncapped and drying pens next to broken pencils and eraser stubs. His stained-glass lamp shade was just so hung to the side that Shinji couldn’t restrain the urge to shift it upright with nervous delicacy. 

The drawer was slightly ajar—enough for Shinji to open it without it creaking. 

Now, this was the kind of embarrassing thing that would make someone say, “Just don’t go in the bedroom!” but Kaworu did not say such a thing. Did he not have any decency for visitors? Did he have so few that he could be unabashed? Did he trust Shinji, a trust Shinji had just so broken without a second thought? Or, maybe it was because Shinji had already seen him in these ways. 

It’s all gay shit.

Rolls of condoms. A half-used tube of _lotion_ in a plastic bag. 

What’s an enema? 

(It was already exposed, there was no reason not to dig around some more.)

( _IshouldnotbedoingthisIshouldnotbedoingthisIsshouldnotbedoingthisIshouldnotbedoingthis_ )

Shinji’s heart was racing, more so than when Kaworu held him earlier that morning. 

It was because this was something he was taking from Kaworu without his consent, prying away more layers of Kaworu. He had gone from “Dr. Nagisa” to Kaworu “The…”

The what?

He suddenly pictured in his mind a swarm of possible indecencies committed next to him.

(Is this what Kaworu meant when he said he was “that way”?)

Some bodies tumbling around, much older, younger, fatter, slimmer—just _not himself_ —touching Kaworu, making him make those faces. Or, was it worse to imagine Kaworu _touching anyone_ the way he had treated him yesterday night? Maybe there would be not one—no, two or three—what about a whole party in this room tearing him apart—with his consent, _ruining him_. It was too overwhelmingly disgusting to imagine anyone doing anything like that to Kaworu, or vice versa. 

It was the thought that what Kaworu did with him was not special, not the same way it was to him. 

Why would he? He could have anyone he wanted, he could have...Why would he want anyone like—?

Shinji was revolted at those ghosts who had touched Kaworu and could not accept Kaworu would go about touching others in those so gentle, so intimate, so comforting ways. 

( _I could never be angry at him. Even if I wanted to, I could never hate him._ )

That truth frustrated Shinji. Nothing made sense. He was being pulled in contradictory directions, swallowed by the abyss of those red, red eyes. This ominous threat, a bounded fate he couldn’t resist, or so it felt. 

But, he so badly wanted to be swallowed, sink deep into that comforting pool. To be enveloped by the warm liquids around him, to drown and die and lay at the bottom as the clouds rolled over the surface from above. To be weighted down by the suffocating pressure of this body of water—Kaworu’s body—and be unable to ascend. Not that he actually would desire to escape the soft sheets twirling around his curled form, but he wished to be freed from the guilt of leaving that world by the constrictions of that abyssal prison. 

Those are the thoughts that arose in his mind as he had indulged himself in the ghost of Kaworu upon a lavender shirt plucked from the carpet’s sea of disarray. 

_ (I want to undo everything you did here. I want to be the only one who gets to fuck you. I want you to apologize. You’re way too perfect to be so disgusting.) _

No, it wasn't the toiletries, he just naturally smelled good. So good. 

_ (If I could replace all those people with my own body, that would be perfect. Then, it would be okay. I’ll do all those things with Kaworu, if it's necessary. That’s what you want, right? Kaworu?) _

 

* * *

“What is it?”

He looked up from his phone screen, meeting red eyes that seemed to have a bit of curiosity dancing in them.

“Oh. Nothing. I just...I forgot I had something scheduled for tomorrow.”

“Me too. I have a hair appointment.” She took off her hat and pointed blankly to her own head, strands of hair sticking up weirdly due to the static of the hat.

“Oh, I guess your roots are coming in.”

She had been dying her hair blue since high school, her only means of rebelling against not only her parents but also how starkly similar she and Kaworu looked when they both had white hair and red eyes. In a way, she did seem like the same person that she was in high school, at least outwardly. Then again, many psychologists have theorized that patients with eating disorders starve themselves to maintain a quasi-childlike state. However, Kaworu felt like this was a gross generalization, considering he had witnessed firsthand the complexities of such an illness. 

Kaworu seemed to be the only one who had picked up on the fragile woman living beneath the walls of glass warping the reflection of Rei to herself and to others. 

He wanted so badly to protect her, to make sure that she was happy. But, what Kaworu was finding was that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fix everything in her life. He had tried before, but it always ended up making things more complicated.

Maybe he should have been taking notes.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps the solution to his anger was to become more despicable than Kaworu so that Shinji, himself, would not be in the position of granting—or withholding—forgiveness.  

So, he took something out of his key chain and swallowed it with his dry throat.

Kaworu’s lotion tingled his skin, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. An invigorating menthol aroma mimicked the sparkling coolness of Kaworu’s skin, Shinji thought, closing his eyes and squishing the fluid between his fingers as he rubbed it over his inconvenient, totally needless erection.

He wondered if this was how Kaworu did it, too. Did Kaworu even have to masturbate? Did Kaworu just grab another body whenever he felt the need? Or, were his sexual desires just pity born out of others’ deficiency in charm? Did Kaworu find himself attractive? Could he just look in the mirror and jerk off to his own reflection? Did he look at porn? What kind of porn would he look at? Did he do it like this or did he do it _like a girl?_

Those exciting questions swirled around Shinji’s minds as each passing mystery brought with it another vision of himself replacing a previous other, to be the one between the bed and Kaworu’s body. The encounter last night had slowly crept into parts of Shinji’s consciousness. The touch of Kaworu’s skin, or rather Kaworu’s shirt and its scent between his hands, triggered a flood of associated scenes. Shinji had never quite fantasized, no less touched himself, to such a virile memory beyond the idea of a person, beyond the person as an actor playing upon his own private, erotic stage. It was so much more shameful and invasive to imagine someone as they were, to fixate himself back into the scenes of a dirty memory and relive the intensity of them in the freedom away from wandering eyes. He looked down at himself below Kaworu and tried to picture how they would appear if seen from various angles, how his knees shivered when Kaworu pressed against him, how Kaworu stretched his back and shifted his shoulders in their embrace. 

Kaworu was a boy, a fact Shinji repressed fixating on, but was now exploring under a prescription drug abuse trance. He let himself get off to the thought of touching dicks and doing more things with them, for the sake of simplicity. There was no such concept of sexual orientation in the space between Shinji’s ears for the moment being. Kaworu could be sexual in an innocent way, wandering around and pursuing an inexplicit urge without a concept of taboo or fetishes. However, the idea of Kaworu as something too human, as someone who slept around and did gay things with other gay men, was dangerous. Shinji was afraid of how intrinsic his rising libido was to the disgusting automatic reactions towards such things. For now, his lizard brain was stunted by some powerful depressants and a lack of any form of chemical resistance. 

Maybe it’s okay to be like this if it’s just with Kaworu. 

His hips bucked as his voice shivered just barely out of his bitten lips. 

 

* * *

 

Kaworu noticed Rei’s gaze fixated on him. He stopped biting his palm and finally decided to leave the car (his momentary respite in the excuse of “having to make a phone call”). Normally coming back home would just be a plain thing as always, (‘Rei needed to be dropped off, I have a license, she mustn’t have to use the bus’) but today he knew someone was actually waiting for him. Rei did not cross her brows, but she did tap her foot with some marginally changed refraction in her eyes that taunted Kaworu. So, he finally shut off the engine and took the cement way to join her. 

 

* * *

 

Shinji was staring at his own semen in hand for far too long now. 

The clock had already shifted beyond the acceptable limit of any event that Kaworu could say would end before nightfall. 

At this realization, Shinji mustered a burst of energy in his guilty panic to wash his hands over and over (making certain wipe them dry on his shirt rather than some fancy—probably not even practical—hand towels initialed ‘N’). He sat at the edge of Kaworu’s bed, staring at his ankles before registering that his dick was still hanging out. So, after pulling up his pants, he did a quick mental check up and prayed there were no other pieces of urgent evidence which would spoil Kaworu’s goodwill towards him before his back hit the bed, and he let his heavy body sink into the sheets. They still smelled good.

 

* * *

 

“Hello, Rei. How wa—Kaworu?”

“Mom.”

She looked surprised. Rei’s smaller body inhibited their physical confrontation but allowed them to speak at proper level—a conscious move which Kaworu made a mental note of to recognize verbally. 

“It’s freezing, you should come in. Right, Rei?”

Rei shook her head. 

Kaworu sighed, “I’m sorry, I have some homework to do tonight. I’m filling out reports for my professor. I just meant to drop Rei off quickly and—”

“You never visit anymore. I didn’t think that when you’d go off to school again you’d just cut us off—”

“Please, I don’t want to be upset right now. I need a clear head for my work later. Let’s talk about this another time.”

“...Fine. Thank you for the trouble of taking Rei out again. I always thought it was good social practice for the both of you to go out like that, go and talk to strangers and—”

Kaworu’s consciousness left the conversation. He felt the morning’s sickness rise up from his stomach once more. He looked down at his watch and felt some pull to check up on Shinji as soon as possible.

“Yeah. It’s never a problem. Who wouldn’t love Rei? She’s precious. It’s a pleasure to see her when I can. Mom, I have to go, so—”

“Hah, fine, I understand. Have a nice rest of the day, with your project or whatever.”

“You too, bye Mom, Rei. Love you.”

Kaworu could just barely make a step off the porch without his mother cracking open the door to further frustrate him, “—coming for Christmas still, right?”

“Right.”

“Your father says hi.”

Kaworu stayed silent.

 

* * *

 

It had only started as Asuka and Mari watching a shitty not-Disney animated movie on Netflix, but at some point, Asuka found her head resting in Mari’s lap. 

Mari kind of had that way about her. One second, everything was fine and normal, and the next, she had fingers running through her long red hair. Maybe a part of her still denied that she enjoyed Mari’s company. Maybe her entire “I don’t know how this happened” facade was just a way to pretend like the reality of the situation wasn’t really true.

(Maybe she actually did have feelings for Mari, and it wasn’t just some drunken hookup. But, that would mean she would have to deal with the fact that she is into another girl, and that was very much a can of worms that Asuka would rather leave unopened.)

“Hmm, Princess, is there something wrong?”

“What?” Her eyes were still fixated on the TV even though she hadn’t really been watching. “No. Why?”

“You seem a bit tense.”

“I’m not.” 

Mari’s thighs shifted under Asuka’s head. It was unfortunate that she had to stifle a surprised sound.

“Are you still upset at Prince? I texted him about your request, and he’s ‘more than willing to cover the cost of damages—’” Mari didn’t even bother to hold back her laugh. “—God, he’s so fucking extra. Anyway, just request some money from him on Venmo. It’s all taken care of, no need to worry, Princess.”

“I _said,_ I’m not worried. Jesus Christ.”

“Okay, if you say so,” she giggled, aware that Asuka was just being overly defensive, like she often was about such things.

But, in Asuka’s defense, she didn’t actually feel worried or even simply tense, per se. It was more that being in situations such as this one pointed to the fact that her life had been altered by her actions after the party. That meant acknowledging that her life was changing in various ways, some less desirable than others, and thinking about that scared her to death. Mari was one of these changes, but the others were a bit more complicated.

The sound of the movie’s musical number was complimented by Mari’s light humming, a strangely melodic addition to the pre-recorded track. It seemed she was already very familiar with the movie, and Asuka felt a pang of guilt because she hadn’t been paying attention to it. To be fair, Mari’s wandering hands were distracting. Also, now that she thought of it, why did she even care that she wasn’t paying attention to some dumb kids movie?

(Oh no.)

She sat up, adjusting herself on the couch so she wasn’t as close to Mari as she had been before. After all, who knows if she may accidentally find her head in her lap again.

This time, Mari did offer a disappointed sound, one that could be likened to the whine of a house cat.

“Asuka…”

“Sorry.”

Her mouth twisted as if she were experiencing some sort of pain.

“If you’re not comfortable with me, you can say so.”

She felt bad that she was interrupting the movie, but also Mari’s face was strangely downtrodden. It was so uncharacteristic of her normally flamboyant attitude that it made her feel even more guilty. But, guilty about what? She still couldn’t figure that out.

“That’s not…”

But, she _did_ feel uncomfortable around Mari. It wasn’t really her fault, though. Most people felt intimidated by her, but also Asuka didn’t necessarily mind—well, she did, but—ugh, it was all too confusing.

“You know I’m not trying to force you into anything, right?” Such a level tone. It was almost worse than if she had continued to use her normal attitude.

“Yeah. I mean, I figured that.”

“Even though I can be ridiculous a lot of the time—well, most of the time, or maybe even all of the time—I actually do care about you, right?”

Wow, an intimate conversation with Mari. Not exactly what she’d expected for a “Netflix and Chill” situation. She was always surprising her. 

(Asuka believed she had figured everyone out, and the fact that she couldn’t figure out Mari was another reason why she was feeling out of place.)

“Yeah, I…”

“So, don’t worry if you’re not into it, y’know?”

Asuka rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and looking at the floor instead of at the TV or at Mari.

“What I’m not into is you acting all sad and shit.”

Mari laughed, but it was more restrained, like it actually didn’t strike her as that funny.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag—I’d tone it down for you, Princess.”

“Ew, that’s so gross.”

“I know, right?” Another half-hearted laugh. “But, like, isn’t it important that we compromise? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Asuka couldn’t help but turn and balk at the other girl. Since when had Mari been the most mature out of all of her friends? This narrative felt so wrong, yet it seemed like Mari had figured out that this discussion was what she truly needed.

Unfortunately, Asuka couldn’t find the right words to say.

Fortunately, Mari always knew the right words to say.

“You can stop me whenever or if I make you uncomfortable, but I don’t know, I’ve kind of always liked you. And, don’t get me wrong, like, I love Shinji, but y’all clashed hard, and it wasn’t fun to watch. I’m not saying I can always be the best, but…” She glanced over her shoulder, avoiding eye contact and looking at the light that bled under the kitchen door.

Was Mari...embarrassed? 

Holy shit.

“I mean, you’re not wrong about Shinji, but I…”

“You still like him, right?”

Asuka, for once, felt like her breath was caught in her throat. She knew she was obvious, but to be called out was almost too much. She still hadn’t come to terms with it, with any of it, and it genuinely sucked to be having this conversion. But, she had to have it sometime.

“I just hate that he likes that smug bastard.”

Mari chuckled, nodding and letting her gaze fall absently to the TV.

“Yeah, it does kind of suck. But, you guys wouldn’t have been happy if you stayed together. I hated to see him make you cry like that.”

“I know. I know it wasn’t good, but he was just such a part of my life for so long...”

“And, that’s fair. You don’t have instantly forget about him, you know? And, if you need more space, I can give you space.”

And, that always brought Asuka back to the real problem. 

“No, that’s not what I mean…”

(She did want to reciprocate Mari’s affection, but her pride always got in the way.)

The words kind of just blurted out.

“Does this make me gay now?”

This time, Mari’s laugh was genuine, much in the same way she had responded to Shinji’s similar remarks.

“Jesus, Princess, is that what this is about? You’re obviously not _gay_ gay. Like, if you like Puppy Boy, you’re probably bi or something. But, if you like my gay ass, then you’re def not straight.” Mari ran her fingers through her own bangs, her laughter becoming softer as she felt her nervousness die down. 

Asuka looked rightly embarrassed, continuing to avoid eye contact. 

The tension in the room didn’t seem as stifling, though, because Mari was returning back to her normal self. Her fingers brushed under her chin, and she managed to turn Asuka’s head so their eyes met.

“Do you mind?”

There was a second where Asuka felt like she couldn’t breathe. After all, who had given Mari the right to have eyes that were so blue?

“...No…”

When their lips met, Asuka was surprised that she didn’t feel as guilty, even though she was completely sober.

 

* * *

 

Shinji wiped the hardened crust accumulated in the corners of his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that his head was no longer aching, cushioned by the cool fabric of the pillow below it. His stomach was churning, hipbones jutting out as he looked under the covers. Completely clothed, thank god. Kaworu?

He sat up. He was in his dorm again. It was morning. He immediately grabbed his phone trying to verify what day it was and whether it had all been a dream. It was clarified by the texts Kaworu sent, which Shinji must have slept through.

[ _Nagisa: Shinji, yesterday you fell asleep at my apartment. I wanted to talk with you more, but you were asleep as I just said. You looked peaceful, and I imagine you’d need to make up days of sleep from what I know of you, so I decided it would be best to talk about what happened another time. About everything that happened. Please text or call me when you wake up. You were really out of it when I drove you back to your dorm. Thanks._ ]

What happened yesterday? 

[ _Shinji: So...this is kind of weird but_ ]

[ _Shinji: Should I still come to my appointment tomorrow?_ ]

Even though Kaworu had been indecisive about the topic the previous day, Shinji had a sneaking suspicion he already knew what the answer would be.

He couldn't wait to see him again.

 


	8. Mania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiss me on the mouth and set me free  
> Sing me like a choir  
> I could be the subject of your dreams  
> Your sickening desire  
> Don’t you want to see a man up close?  
> A Phoenix in the fire  
> So, kiss me on the mouth and set me free, but please don't bite

It was simultaneously painful and relieving that Shinji’s heart jumped into his throat every time he saw Kaworu.

Honestly, having your entire body light up just because you’re around someone is exhausting, but Shinji hadn’t felt this alive in so long that he couldn’t be mad. In fact, the way his chest squeezed when Kaworu offered him a small, sad smile was so intense it was almost painful, but it also felt magical, maybe even unreal. He hoped that Kaworu didn’t notice the tiny gasp he needed to catch his breath.

“Hello, Shinji.”

He definitely looked more well rested compared to his gaunt appearance the other day. His skin wasn’t as grey, his hair wasn’t as deflated, and the darkness under his eyes wasn’t as prominent. Shinji wondered absently if he normally wore makeup or if a night of heavy drinking and debauchery really had sullied his beautiful skin so thoroughly the next day.

With a sheepish smile, he followed the man into his office, something he had grown used to, but considering the events of the weekend, felt a little more than just an obligatory appointment.

It would be erroneous to call it a date, but a therapy session wasn’t quite right either. 

Shinji couldn’t help but notice that there was an air of nervousness surrounding Kaworu. He had accidentally knocked over a stack of papers on the way to his chair, which he fumbled to stack and organize again. When he finally sat down, his fingers twitched as if he were going to crack them, but resided to just folding them in his lap and crossing his knees.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

It was the first time Shinji had asked the question back, and it seemed to throw Kaworu off kilter. 

“Erm, I’m alright. I was a bit worried about you.”

“Huh? Why?”

“It was just that you seemed to be extremely tired when I drove you home the other day.”

“Oh.” 

( _Would it be weird to ask what happened?_ )

“You were very groggy to the point where you needed help getting into and out of the car. I was afraid maybe you had become ill because you were so lethargic.”

Shinji imagined his body, much smaller than Kaworu’s, being placed into the passenger seat of a vehicle he didn't remember seeing. It made him feel infantilized, but at the same time, he was pretty sure no one had done that for him since his mother used to drive him around to calm him during particularly long temper tantrums. In a way, his behavior in Kaworu's house was as much a temper tantrum as the childish wailing he had used against his mom.

“I’m sorry, I must have just been really tired. I don’t think I’m sick, though.”

“I see. Well, I hope that you had plenty of time to recover yesterday.”

The thought that Kaworu cared enough to wonder how he was doing made him feel unreasonably special. Maybe it was a bit pathetic to be moved by such a basic amount of compassion.

“I did. Thank you. For everything.” Shinji looked down in an attempt to hide his smile and flushed cheeks. Not much had changed from their original sessions, had they? Well, except for everything.

Kaworu sighed, glancing at the window in order to bolster his own resolve and organize his thoughts and feelings into as coherent an order as possible.

“Who is she?” 

Shinji’s voice woke Kaworu from his thoughts. He turned his head to see what Shinji was pointing at. His eyes rested on the portrait of Rei on his desk, which happened to be a particularly nice photo taken for her high school senior portrait. He picked it up and held it lovingly in his hands, presumably the first time in a few months, as the dust that fluttered off of it was rather thick.

It had been a while since he admired what a beautiful shot it was.

(Someone paler than Kaworu?...No, actually, he’s a few shades lighter.)

Her gaze was much softer than usual, cast just slightly over her shoulder, which suggested to Kaworu that the photographer had snapped the picture when Rei was distracted by something else, perhaps a squirrel or passing bug. Her light blue hair complemented the soft focus of the foliage in the background. She looked thin—but not Too Thin—in her blue and white sundress.

“Ah. This is my sister.” 

“I didn’t know you had a sister. Can I see?”

The young man sighed a bit, handing over the frame to Shinji. He analyzed it intently.

“Wow, she’s really pretty. What’s her name?” 

“Her name is Rei.” 

“She has the same eyes as you.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Are you twins?”

“No, she is younger than I am.” 

“Oh,” Shinji said, handing back the frame so Kaworu could set it back on his desk. “It’s crazy that you both are—well, I mean—you’re albino, right? I-I guess, I shouldn’t assume, but uh, what are the odds? Your parents must be that way, too, right?” His words had a way of tumbling out of his mouth, like he wasn’t thinking before saying anything. 

Kaworu felt himself swallow. His first thought was that this wasn’t relevant information to be discussing, but then, he remembered that Shinji was no longer just an ordinary client. Naturally, he’d want to delve into more personal matters, especially since Kaworu had been deliberately excluding such details previously. Nevertheless, the whole thing left a pit in his stomach.

“Well...no. Our parents adopted us at a very young age.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t quite remember what our biological parents looked like. It’s possible they had similar features.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright. It doesn’t impact us significantly. Our parents always loved us as their own, and we, frankly, never knew any different.”

“Ah. That’s good to hear.”

There was another long pause where they both shifted uncomfortably where they sat, Kaworu uncrossing his legs only to swing the other one over and Shinji paying more attention to picking at his nails than the tension in the room. His tapping foot was not a very good distraction from his discomfort. 

“Shinji. We really need to talk about what happened.” 

“I know.”

When he looked back up to meet Kaworu’s gaze, Shinji was taken aback by how serious he looked. His jaw seemed to be clenched, his muscles just barely flexing under his skin. It hadn’t occurred to him that this was all causing distress for the other man, considering Shinji only felt a nervous excitement at the thought of them reuniting once again.

He sighed before continuing. 

“I realize that my approach on the matter before would only devolve into a similar circular argument. I think it’s important that you are informed of the complications of our continued relationship, professional or otherwise.”

“Uh…”

“But, also, since you are technically an adult, I’m urging you to be willing to compromise. I will do my best to stay level-headed, and I will ask if you could do the same.”

He was talking so clinically about something that wasn’t clinical at all. Shinji felt that familiar pit of despair well in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself if Kaworu’s ultimate conclusion was that they should never interact again.

“That’s a long way to say that you don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“Shinji, please try to work with me.”

He crossed his arms and sank slightly into his hoodie. He didn’t like that he sounded so technical. “Okay.” 

“Now, on the matter of consent: it is true that you verbally agreed to what transpired, but the problem is more of my role in your life. Therapists have knowledge about their clients and a trusting bond, which can be manipulated in order to exploit that relationship. My actions severely crossed a professional line that puts you and your well-being at risk. Regardless of your personal perspective on the matter, I have taken advantage of you and your trust in me, and for that, I greatly apologize.”

Shinji was only half listening, the other part of his mind seething at the idea that Kaworu blamed himself for something that Shinji believed was his fault. If anything, Shinji had taken advantage of him, not the other way around. Clearly, Kaworu was capable of attracting anyone he wanted, so he probably wouldn’t have even done anything in the first place if Shinji hadn’t kissed him. 

He didn’t say any of this out loud, however, for Kaworu was still talking. 

“That being said, continuing to engage in our sessions together would be harmful as the therapeutic relationship requires an openness which would be inappropriate in light of our feelings for each other. That’s not to mention that I would be breaking moral and ethical codes of conduct which endanger you and my career.” 

“So, you care about your job more than me?” The words kind of slipped out. Shinji knew they were mean and ridiculous, but he felt so hurt by what Kaworu was saying that he almost didn’t feel bad about guilting him.

“That’s definitely not what I’m trying to imply. You _know_ that I care about you. I care about you too much, and that’s the dilemma.”

“What, so you want to just stop seeing me altogether? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I can have you referred to another practitioner.”

“I don’t want anyone else, Kaworu,” he whined, feeling that pit inside him grow bigger. “I don’t want to start all over again with someone I don’t know—someone that might hate me or make me feel worse. You’re the only person who has ever taken how I feel seriously. I could never see anyone else. I wouldn’t see anyone else. It’s not worth it.” 

“The other option is to terminate our personal relationship completely. We only see each other in our sessions, which means no association outside of that, and absolutely no displays of affection, physical or otherwise.”

Shinji felt as though the world was starting to crumble underneath the couch he was sitting on.

“But, I...I don’t…”

“Those are the best options available to us. Everything else would be endangering you.”

“But, what about this? What about what we have right now? You help me as a therapist, and we can see each other outside of that as…” 

As what? Neither of them wanted to complete that sentence.

“Shinji...that’s not really an option.” 

“Y-Yes, it is! I already promised that I’d try my best to get better anyway, and you don’t want to hurt me either, so as long as we don’t screw anything up, everything will work out.” The sentiment seemed overly optimistic, even to Shinji’s ears, considering the heated argument they had in Kaworu’s apartment and the resulting mini-breakdown that followed. 

“That would be incredibly difficult to maintain, not to mention morally compromising.” 

“Ugh. Morality, ethics, whatever. Doesn’t everyone have a different set of morals or whatever? This doesn’t seem bad to me. It seems great, honestly. You make me so happy when I’m with you, and that’s what you’re trying to do when we’re here anyway, right?”

The boy’s arguments were shaky at best, and while morals are indeed not set in stone, medical practitioners of any type must uphold the Hippocratic Oath, among other rules and regulations, and “do no harm” was definitely not how anyone would describe the current arrangement.

But, Shinji’s wide and bleary eyes always fucking got to him. He looked so sad, so helpless in the face of abandonment, and God knew that he had a weak support network that would probably break apart if he fell too hard against it. The idea hurt Kaworu’s chest, a distinct sorrow that arose when he, too, thought about distancing their relationship. He knew it was wrong, he knew it was terrible, he knew it made him an awful person, but he also knew it would be too easy to fall into each other again.

(Shinji had mentioned it before, that pull that attracted them together like the positive and negative ends of magnets. Kaworu could have rejected Shinji’s advances in the first place, but he didn’t. He did not reject him, and in fact, indulged in his desires for no other reason than he felt so compelled by the boy. Of course, liquor does not help matters, but Kaworu and Shinji’s attraction towards each other did seem to be incredibly strong for the short few months they had been acquainted. Kaworu didn’t believe in fate, but if this is what it felt like, then, he for sure did not like it.)

Kaworu must have fallen silent for too long because Shinji let out a tired sigh, one that signaled discontent. 

“If nothing else, you can blame me for it all, I guess.” 

“Nonsense.” 

“It’s my fault we’re in this position at all, but now that we are, I can’t really be mad.”

“You know that’s not true, Shinji. I am equally, if not more so, responsible for all of this. I would never blame you for something when I have to agree to participate in the first place. You’re not in the wrong for simply approaching me.”

He shrugged, hands shoved into the front pocket of his sweater.

“I would just be really sad if you left. I’d be really, really sad.”

“I know. It’s disappointing.” The sympathetic frown he offered was bordering on pity.

“So, you feel that way, too?”

Kaworu bit his lip and turned his gaze downward. Shinji couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed, ashamed, or just plain annoyed at his prodding.

“It’s regrettable. But, my emotions should not be the deciding factor in this situation.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, it should be a factor. If we both would be sad if we changed anything, why bother?”

“You know why, Shinji. I’ve discussed it at length with you.”

“But, listen, if I promise to be super, super careful not to tell anyone, and I try really, really hard in therapy, I think it could work out just fine.” 

He was lying to himself because he knew that even with precautions, this could not turn out fine, but he was a selfish person who had already resigned to his own self-indulgent behaviors at the party, and he wasn’t going to stop now. 

“Shinji…”

“Please, I promise. I really do. I like you so much. You’re so perfect, and I have no idea why you would even like someone like me, but it makes me so happy. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy with someone. You’re so special to me.”

Kaworu sighed, and by the sound of it, Shinji realized he had been holding his breath.

“Wait, how about this,” he began, picking up the tone of his voice to try to sound cheery to the older man. “Winter Break starts next week anyway. Since we won’t have sessions, we can just hang out and pretend this isn’t such a big deal, and then decide what we want to do from there. That way, you’re technically not seeing me at the same time, and we can just feel it out.”

While still not a solution, it was admittedly a decent compromise. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to be self-indulgent for a little while longer. Deep down, Kaworu knew that’s what they both wanted, even if it was ultimately the wrong choice.

With another heavy sigh, Kaworu flashed a sad, sad look of defeat. “Fine. But, we absolutely have to make a decision by the end of break.”

The smile that broke out on Shinji’s face was so wide, Kaworu wondered if his teeth would fall out of his head. 

“Oh, God, really? Oh, man, thank you, Kaworu. Thank you so much. You’re really so amazing.” 

“Now, now, let’s not get carried away.”

That didn’t stop Shinji from standing from the couch and moving toward him, not even letting him get up from his chair before throwing his arms around him and resting his forehead on his shoulder.

“Shinji, you shouldn’t be—I mean, this isn’t appropriate—we’re still trying to…”

It was Shinji’s turn to shut up Kaworu with his lips, something that caught him off guard enough to let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched squeak. Like most things they shouldn’t be doing, Kaworu couldn’t quite muster the strength the pull away, and just let Shinji’s hands dance in his hair, fingers dragging through silver fluff.

Kaworu always assumed he was going to hell, but this only confirmed that he would have a special ring all to himself.

 

* * *

 

Finals week usually spelled gloom and disaster for most of the students at NERV University as they desperately crammed in and expelled more knowledge than a single brain could normally handle. There was always a silent hush around the end of the semester—libraries filled to the brim, coffee shops endlessly churning out gallons upon gallons of coffee, rushed walking to get from exam to exam.

However, for once, Shinji did not blend in. He stuck out like a sore thumb because Shinji Ikari, for once in his life, looked relatively normal.

It was truly amazing. He woke up without hitting snooze on his alarm, showered, brushed his teeth, and got dressed without a single self-deprecating thought. He even was able to study enough that he felt comfortable going into his finals. Of course, a few of the uppers Shinji had stolen from Kaworu’s med stash certainly didn’t hurt. In fact, he was feeling considerably less depressed the past few days.

(There was something to be said about messing with his brain chemistry. That’s all it was, though, right? Not sleeping because he feels high, not eating because he feels high, studying and cleaning because he feels high. He’d never really felt like that before, but he’d never taken these types of medications before. Shinji was kind of annoyed at his own usual lethargy when his body had the capability to swing to the other end of the spectrum.)

Regardless of the cause, finally being put together was truly a strange sensation. 

Maybe that’s why when he was walking to his first final, instead of just letting him pass her by in peace, Hikari had gone out of her way to stop him.

“Shinji?”

He looked up from his phone and took his SDAT’s earbuds out. 

“Oh, Hikari, how are you?”

She offered a small smile, charming as always, and said, “I’m alright. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing good, thanks.” It was strange. He couldn’t even stop himself from returning her smile, a small grin appearing on his cheeks. His speech was almost too fast. “Did you have a final today?” 

“I did. Just got done.” 

“Oh, cool. Yeah, I’m going to one right now, actually.”

(Eyes glancing between Hikari, the ground, and a building. Everything about Shinji was completely unlike Shinji—just too much.) 

“I see. Well, I should go, then. I wouldn’t want to make you late.” 

Shinji waved his hand in front of his face. “No, no, no. It’s totally fine. I have plenty of time. But, it was nice to see you again.” 

Hikari’s eyes seemed to scan him over, (Clean and combed hair instead of unkempt and unwashed, a t-shirt, zip-up jacket, and khakis instead of a dirty hoodie and well-worn jeans, a contented expression with a small smile instead of his usual air of despair).

He looked like a completely different person. 

“Yeah, of course. If you want to hang out during break, I’m sure Asuka and Toji would love to see you again.” 

“Sure. That sounds fun.”

Hikari waved, letting her gaze rest back on Shinji’s rather uncharacteristically cheery smile. “Alright, if that’s the case, I’ll keep in touch.”

“Cool. See you later, then.” 

And, he took off in the way of the academic buildings, head gently bobbing to the song coming from his newly re-inserted headphones. 

As Hikari walked the opposite way, she pulled out her phone. 

[ _Hikari: Hey, have you talked to Shinji lately?_ ] 

[ _Asuka: not since the party, why?_ ]

[ _Hikari: He seems...different._ ]

[ _Asuka: what do you mean?_ ] 

[ _Hikari: He looked like he was happy. Or maybe high? Idk he was just really weird._ ] 

There was an awfully long pause between when Hikari sent the last text and when Asuka responded. 

[ _Asuka: shinji is an idiot_ ]

Hikari wasn’t sure what provoked such a response, but she got the sense that Shinji may have been happy about a circumstance that Asuka didn’t particularly like.

Well, it wasn’t anything she couldn’t pull out of Mari later. That girl can’t exactly keep her mouth shut.

 

* * *

 

Shinji passed his political science class, getting a 92 on the final and a 73 overall. Not stellar enough to earn praise, but enough of an improvement that Dr. Katsuragi had put a swirly flower design at the top of his paper.

He couldn't be mad. It was certainly better than failing. And, he'd even passed his other classes with low B’s and high C’s. Considering there were times this semester where Shinji wondered if he'd even survive, this was certainly something he felt a tiny bit proud of. Alright grades only contributed to his Brand New Good Mood.

Now, all he had to do was keep himself together long enough to survive Winter Break. 

The worst part about it was that the dorms close.

As much as Shinji despised being trapped in his dorm room, which was honestly seeming more and more like the prison cells that Kensuke described, he despised having to live with his father more. 

With just a backpack and a duffel bag of clothes to his name, Shinji climbed into his car. They didn’t speak with each other as they began their drive to the lonely, motherless, wifeless house that had been painted blue back when anyone cared what their house looked like. They had barely said a word to each other since their last argument in his office, so why start talking now? It was only going to end badly. 

Maybe it was better if it ended badly. Maybe that’s just how the universe willed them to work. After all, what was their relationship other than interactions which always went horribly wrong?

“How’s Soryu?”

Case and point.

“Oh…” Shinji directed his gaze out the window, hand propping up his chin. He hated that his face was tinged red. “Asuka’s fine.”

“You haven’t brought her around in a while.”

Yes, because obviously Shinji and his father had such stellar comradery that he would feel comfortable bringing his (ex-)girlfriend around for a “friendly” chat. Jesus Christ. Was he really that tone deaf? Or did he just know that this was going to end with animosity?

(Did he really hate him that much?)

“I mean, I haven’t really had time. We’re both busy with school…” 

( _And, we’re always at each other’s throats. Why would you want her to be around anyway?_ )

Gendo looked disgruntled, but Shinji couldn’t understand why. He hadn’t said anything disagreeable, had he?

“I take it that you’re still together, then?” 

Oh, man.

Shinji felt his insides freeze up. Why did he even care? It wasn’t even his business. 

“Why are you interrogating me?” 

“Interrogating? Hardly. It’s my right as a parent to know who you’re involved with.”

Shinji made a face, one that said, ‘uh, since when?’

If this was an attempt to relate to Shinji or somehow show that he cared about him, Gendo was failing miserably. Although, he couldn’t help but think that asking about his love life was related to some ulterior motive of some sort. It didn’t feel genuine. To be fair, Gendo never was the most genuine person to begin with.

Against his better judgement, he responded, “You don’t care about any other aspect of my life, so why should I tell you about this one?” 

For a second, it looked like he was at a loss for words, but anger set in, pulling his eyebrows downward.

“Honestly, I don’t know what to do with you, Ikari. You always complain that I don’t care, and then the next second, you’re upset that I want to know about your life? I didn’t raise you to be ungrateful.”

( _You didn’t raise me. Mom did. You never cared about me._ ) 

“Whatever.” 

His father used to be different. He used to care, but Shinji was angry and didn’t want to think about those times. It was sadder to think about how he had changed, how he had taken away any of the affection he offered in the form of dad jokes and hands on shoulders and interest in his life. Now there was just nothing, just fighting and resentment.

It made him feel sick, and even the buzzing of his skin, the rushing thoughts in his mind couldn’t convince him that things were going to be alright.

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

(The air in the car simmered with unspoken anger and resentment.)

At least, his room was relatively unchanged. He could slip inside and close the door and pretend he didn’t exist. It wasn’t really a way to live, but Shinji found it more enjoyable than trying to occupy the same room as his father for longer than a few minutes.

He could stare up at the ceiling and take comfort in the fact that it was extremely familiar. Although, he didn’t really feel any nostalgia because that was one of the emotions he had lost at some point without realizing it.

A pang of grief hit him in the chest.

God, how we wished he could go back in time. He wished he could live in a world where his mother never left him, where his father never left him, where Asuka never left him. Then, everything would be fine. Then, it wouldn’t be like this. If everyone hadn’t left him, everything would be fine. 

(Why did everyone in his life have to leave him?) 

He rubbed at his wet cheeks, pretending like being in this house wasn’t fucking him up. 

But, that didn’t matter anymore, right? He had Kaworu. Kaworu gave him all the pleasant feelings that he needed, even if he did sort of still feel empty inside most times. Right? It didn't matter that he never really felt good or that he had replaced most emotions with temporary fixes. It was all probably fine.

Wasn’t it?

(He desperately wanted someone to tell him that everything was fine.)

Instead of dealing with any more suffering, Shinji popped the last two pills from his little keyring, praying sleep would come to him sooner rather than later. Fortunately, it didn’t take too long before the blankets of chemical depression smothered him into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

He tried to open his eyes, but the action felt like lifting weights on his eyelids. In fact, his whole body felt heavy. Someone must have let him sink into syrup and trapped him in an encasing of amber. 

His bedside table glowed the time in red, but he couldn't make out the numbers. Instead, his eyes closed again, the mere act of opening them seemingly the hardest thing imaginable. 

If he dreamt anything that night, Shinji didn’t remember.

 

* * *

 

The next thing he knew, someone was banging on his door. He opened his eyes, but his body still felt too heavy to be awake yet.

“Ikari. I’m coming in.”

Before Shinji could even register what was happening, his father barged into the room, his usual disappointed glare already implemented.

“I don’t care what you do at school, but it is 3:00 pm, and you are not going to sleep all day under this roof.”

Shinji was finally realizing that he was still in his clothes from yesterday, tangled up in a blanket, a bit of dried spit on his chin. He also felt dizzy, especially since he was already getting his first lecture of the day just seconds after regaining consciousness. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes in an attempt to keep them open.

If Gendo was more angry than usual, Shinji couldn’t tell. Maybe he hadn’t seen him in so long that his ability to gauge his reactions had dulled. To be fair, there wasn’t a lot of nuances to differentiate between his moods. They were always negative and always implied that Shinji was never doing enough, no matter what he did.

If only Shinji knew how to make his father love him again, he would absolutely do it in a heartbeat. But, the reality of the situation was that Shinji was always doing something wrong.

(He knew, deep down, that his existence was wrong, that only his mother could rectify this animosity, and of course, that was impossible.)

“I’m very busy this break, so I need you to take over the chores I don’t have time for. I already have a list on the fridge. I will not tolerate laziness.” He seemed to give him a once over, taking in how disheveled he looked. “And, clean yourself up, Ikari.”

The door closed probably a little too hard, but even if it had just been at a normal volume, Shinji’s pounding head wouldn’t have been spared.

One of the things that drove him mad about Gendo was how he only had two modes: expect everything from Shinji or ignore him completely. He could go from “Well, you should be getting higher scores, and really, what’s this nonsense about going to therapy, it only makes you a coward, and are you still dating Soryu? Your intimate personal life is my business,” to not even bothering to make sure his son was still alive. Of course, anyone else could see it was a power play of sorts, a game of tug-of-war that kept Shinji in a constant cycle of emotional turmoil.

How many times, even in the same thought, had he desperately wished his father loved him and also wished he was dead?

It took a few minutes to gather his wits about him (not to mention push down the anxiety in his chest that often built after their confrontations) before he grabbed a change of clothes from the mess that he had dumped from his duffel bag and made his way into the bathroom. 

The first thing he noticed was that he stood up too fast, a familiar sticky feeling of nausea rising from his gut. Shinji dropped the clothes he was holding and hung over the toilet, slightly annoyed that the only thing that he could bring up was the disgusting yellowish-greenish color of bile.

Oh, yeah, that was right. When was the last time he had anything substantial to eat? Between drinking and throwing up at the party, the downers the day after, the uppers for a few days after that, and the downers again the night before, Shinji hadn’t been eating well, whether because he didn’t feel hungry, felt too nauseous, or fell into a coma-like slumber before he could think about it.

And, well, that was probably one of the reasons why he felt like shit. That and the fact that he might have taken too much last night, considering even after several hours of sleep, he was still a walking zombie.

Once his body decided it was done dry heaving, he went to change his clothes and brush his teeth, taking extra care to avoid his reflection as he probably looked grosser than usual. He really didn't need the extra boost of confidence.

Now, to figure out just what his father expected of him. Probably too much, as usual.

 

* * *

 

Shinji tried his best not to make too much noise as he ghosted into the kitchen. Gendo was working on something in the den. Maybe if he pretended like he didn’t exist, he wouldn’t have anything to say to him. 

At school, Shinji could more or less ignore the fact that his own father didn’t want anything to do with him, but once back home, it was obvious that nothing had changed between them. It was annoying, if not incredibly defeating, to admit to himself that, outside of his friends, he really didn’t have a support network to speak of.

Oh well. Appeasing him seemed better than picking fights.

The note on the fridge was something of a grocery list of chores, but it looked more like a bachelor's grocery list (dishes, mow lawn, pick up and vacuum). That was much less detailed than Shinji expected, half wondering if his father did anything when not at school. In fact, the list didn’t look like instructions for Shinji at all. It was Gendo’s list for himself. Maybe he thought he wouldn’t notice, but “mow lawn” was suspiciously out of place, considering it was winter and all.

So, he had just decided to order him around for shits and giggles. Disappointing, but not surprising.

He opened the refrigerator door to see what there was to eat (even though he still felt kind of woozy). But, well, there really wasn’t much to comment on. A gallon of milk. A pizza box that looked suspiciously old. A six-pack of beer. A few fixings for sandwiches. It was...honestly kind of sad. It took a lot for Shinji to feel some semblance of sympathy towards his father, but this was pretty pitiful.

(Maybe the apple didn’t fall far from the tree after all.)

The food selection was such a discouraging display that whatever appetite he thought he had disappeared. He resided to getting started on the meager list of chores instead.

 

* * *

 

There were only a few dishes (though, like the pizza, they had probably been there for a little longer than they should have), and there had been a thin layer of snow on the ground for the past week or so which meant that the grass wasn’t doing much growing, so the only real challenge was the tidying up.

And, yeah, the living room was kind of a mess. Way more trash than he was expecting, but really, trash was easy to take care of since he could just throw it away. Lots of food wrappers. Lots of bottles. Crumpled up notes that contained scrawl so illegible that he was wondering if his father was suffering from fits of some sort. Oh, and some glasses he hadn’t put in the sink (Shinji made the mental note to wash those later).

However, even after all that, it wasn’t too difficult to clean. All these chores were really showing him that the house was barely lived in anymore, and if it was, it was sporadically with episodes of binge drinking and possible diary entry writing (a commonly seen scribble on the balls of paper looked sort of like “I miss you” but could also have said “l nniii juu” considering how terrible his handwriting was.

(Part of this was worse. Slowly piecing together that his dad was a Grade A Mess made Shinji feel sick to his stomach. It was almost like staring into the future, a bitter, lonely, aimless future. That scared him more than anything. Looking at him like he was a tyrannical dictator who had no feelings and lived to make his life miserable was easier to swallow than this. He had never expected his own father to be weak and pitiful.)

He had never expected his father to be just like him.

 

* * *

 

Shinji opened the refrigerator and took out items he needed for a sandwich.

Two slices of bread. Turkey. Cheddar. Just a bit of mustard.

He’d been trying to stay positive—after all, what did he have to complain about otherwise? But, the oppressive atmosphere made his sandwich taste even more bland and dissatisfying than it usually did. Half of him didn’t want to eat even though he knew he had to. Living off of coffee and granola bars was no way to live, even for a college student.

Gendo was still in the den. Shinji was still afraid to talk to him.

He wished he could see Kaworu right then. He always knew what to say, how to dispel his anxiety and sadness. Well, there wasn’t any reason he couldn’t see Kaworu, but Shinji was slightly nervous about bringing up the idea, especially since the last time they talked was that therapy session, and even if it had ended well, it was still very awkward.

One of his fingers lingered on the edge of his phone in his pocket. It’d be easy to text him, but then, maybe he wouldn’t respond, or maybe he’d just say something short to get Shinji to leave him alone. Those thoughts made him anxious, made his stomach tie up in knots again. His hunger was gone just as quickly as it had come. He threw what was left of the sandwich in the trash.

It was probably best to keep to himself for now, even if he had the urge to crawl out of his skin.

How much more of this silent house could he take? It was becoming unbearable.

(Why did he hate him so much?)

Maybe, Shinji thought, Gendo was just lonely—lonely and grieving, a relatable state of being. Maybe his silence was more of a ploy for attention. Well, probably not. It had never been before, so why would anything be different now? He always gave Shinji the silent treatment.

But, to be fair, this was way worse. The only words spoken to him since their argument way back in the fall had been the argument in the car and the argument in his room. That was abnormal, to say the least. Maybe, just maybe, something was different, something was wrong. 

(Also the lonely state of the house was creeping inside Shinji’s chest. The emptiness of the fridge, the emptiness of left behind bottles and wrappers and words, the emptiness of every room where no one spoke—it was so unbearably lonely. Maybe Gendo was just...maybe he was just suffering like he was. Maybe he wasn’t as awful as he had built him up in his head. Maybe he was just looking for someone to show him affection, the same way that Shinji was.) 

Well, it couldn’t hurt to ask, could it?

 

* * *

 

The den was obscenely still. Only the pen that flew over notebooks and calendars and forms moved under the yellow light of the lamp on his desk. Other than the chaos in front of him, Gendo kept the room pretty tidy, at least compared to the rest of the house. There were stacks of books and papers, but they all had an air of organization to them, unlike the state of a certain someone else’s room.

When he opened his mouth and his voice cracked, Shinji immediately realized he was making a mistake.

“H-Hey, Dad…” 

He didn’t look up from the papers he was writing on. 

“What?” Gendo barked. 

“Uh...I-I was wondering…”

Shinji’s mind went blank. Or, to be more accurate, he had never really come up with anything to say in the first place. What a great plan, he chided himself. C’mon on, think. What brings people together? What do normal families do together? Oh, right. Holiday shit, duh. Brings in the cheer and all that.

“I was just wondering if maybe we could, uh, you know, put up a Christmas tree this year. Like, how we used to?”

If Shinji didn't know any better, he would have thought that his father sneered at him.

“That’s just an extra hassle. I have an entire lesson plan to write before next semester.” He, once again, refused to acknowledge that Shinji was even in the room and continued to scribble away. The ice in his whiskey glass cracked.

He looked at his feet. His socks seemed to blend into the carpet.

What had he honestly expected? A complete 180? A personality change? Maybe his father would break down in tears and wallow in self-pity about his empty life? Yeah, right, fat chance. As much as he was searching for an excuse for Gendo’s poor behavior towards him, it was becoming clearer and clearer that he was just a terrible excuse for a father. His ability to be a proper human was also debatable. 

Either way, it made Shinji feel even more lonely than the house itself had. He was frustrated and sad and embarrassed.

“What’s the point of being home for the holidays if we aren’t going to celebrate them?” Shinji grumbled.

“Since when did you like Christmas so much?”

Well, it wasn’t so much about Christmas as it was his refusal to celebrate something together with Shinji. It was just another “fuck you” in his endless barrage of empty dismissals.

“I’ve always liked it, Dad! You used to, too!”

This time, Gendo did look up from his work, shooting him a familiar look of hazy disappointment.

(Was it grief from losing his wife? Or, was he just so desperately in love with her that he would change every part of his personality to please her? Either way, he was a sorry excuse for a man.) 

“Don’t raise your voice at me, Ikari.” 

Shinji tried not to flinch, but his nerves got the better of him. Why did he think eye contact was a good idea? 

God, why did conversations between them always go like this? It was so exhausting, like they were reading off a script that never changed no matter what they did. He probably should have been doing a better job watching his mouth, but the tears hanging in his eyes brought out the worst in him.

“Why do you always make living with you so miserable? Why do you always treat me like this?”

“I don’t owe respect to an insolent child.”

“I’m _your son!_ Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

His face softened, but only in the way that it went from being visibly angry to simply stern. Turning back to his desk and picking up a pen, he said, “Well, Ikari, if you hate it here so much, you can leave.”

As much as he was used to his father’s cold treatment of him, hearing those words still felt like a punch in the gut.

(Why? Why no matter what he did, no matter how nicely he tried to go about literally any topic, he had to be such an insufferable prick? And, even more troubling, it seemed to be getting worse—like their usual distance was only making it easier for him to treat Shinji like garbage.)

“Fine,” he hissed, turning away and stomping up the stairs. When he slammed his bedroom door, he hoped that he caused Gendo to mess up whatever he was writing. 

He took his phone out of his pocket. 

[ _Shinji: Hey...do you think I could come over?_ ]

He stuffed the clothes on his floor back into his duffle bag.

[ _Asuka:_ im _staying at the house right now...not really coming home this break_ ] 

[ _Asuka: why? did something happen?_ ]

Shinji bit his lip, trying to fight back the tears that continued to fill his vision and make his phone’s screen blurry. 

[ _Shinji: No, sorry for bugging you_ ]

He sat on his bed heavily, making the springs squeak, raking fingers through his hair. He hadn’t wanted to burden him, but he didn’t have anyone else. 

[ _Shinji: I’m sorry to bother you, but I had a fight with my dad and I don’t want to stay here_ ]

[ _Shinji: Is there any way I could stay with you for a bit?_ ]

[ _Shinji: If not, it’s okay, I understand I’m asking a lot_ ]

The bubbled [...] appeared quicker than Shinji had anticipated.

[ _Kaworu: That’s fine. Do you need to be picked up?_ ] 

[ _Shinji: Yeah, I don’t have a car_ ]

[ _Shinji: Thank you so much, it means a lot_ ]

 

* * *

 

Gendo wasn’t even in the den anymore when Shinji made his way downstairs. Figures. He was probably disgusted with him.

Even though Shinji couldn’t blame him, he still slammed the front door on the way out. 

It was comforting to know at least one person cared for him, though. The car idling across the street was both simultaneously nerve-wracking and relieving to see.

(He just wanted to feel any sort of respect, any sort of affection. It was so difficult to be denied that. He needed anyone to validate his existence.)

Kaworu smiled as the car’s dome light dimly illuminated his face.

“Hello, Shinji.” 

(His chest fluttered inadvertently. He sort of felt ashamed that even just being greeted warmly made him feel ready to melt into a puddle.)

Throwing his bag in the back seat and buckling himself into the passenger side, Shinji tried his best to return his kind smile.

“H-Hi. How have you been?”

“I’m alright. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

“It’s okay. I’m just thankful you could come at all.”

That feline smile—so cute, so endearing. 

“It’s no problem.”

Kaworu shifted gears and pulled out from his spot, glancing over his shoulder to make sure there wasn’t any approaching traffic. They drove for a bit in silence. It sounded like it should’ve been awkward, but it wasn't at all. In fact, it was an easy and pleasant silence. Shinji didn’t know such a thing was possible.

Even so, he was glad it was dark out and that the only light came from passing street lamps because he didn’t want Kaworu to see that tears fled down his cheeks.

Too bad his tiny sniffles gave him away. 

“Shinji, are you okay?”

He choked on his own effort to hold back a pathetic sound.

“Y-Yeah, I’m just—I’m just really s-sorry.” A hand went to his face as he struggled to catch his tears while also trying to maintain some semblance of composure. It was unfortunate because he couldn’t force himself to stop crying. 

(Kaworu had to wonder if Shinji could hear his heart breaking.)

“Shinji, please don’t apologize. I promise that I want to help you in any way I can.” 

Ugh, it was disgusting. He hated himself for being so fragile. When had it become too difficult to stop himself from breaking down every time something mildly inconvenient happened? 

“I hate that I’m so gross.” 

Kaworu made an effort to keep his voice as steady and calm as possible. “You’re not, Shinji. You don’t have to be ashamed of expressing your emotions. It’s perfectly reasonable to be upset.” 

His tired sobs slowed down to quiet sniffles once again.

“Are you—are you sure?” 

“Of course. I would never lie to you.”

Despite the fact that he felt terribly embarrassed and ashamed, Shinji tried his best to not let that sentiment carry over to his words. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just so tired of fighting with my dad.”

The older man hummed in acknowledgement, flicking on the turn signal. “Is it something you would like to talk about?”

He shrugged even though Kaworu probably couldn’t see it.

“There isn’t really much to say. We don’t talk because any time we do, one of us always blows up.” He let out a shaky breath. “It’s just so awful to be in that house. I have to act like I don’t exist. I don’t know why he hates me so much. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Even while willing himself not to cry, he couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped into his palm.

Pathetic.

Although Shinji seemed to be worried about how he appeared in front of him, Kaworu was more concerned that Shinji was trying to conceal his true feelings in order to keep up appearances. That was exactly the opposite of what Kaworu wanted. He desperately wished that the boy could be completely open with him.

“That must be incredibly difficult to deal with. I’m sorry, Shinji.” He placed a hand on Shinji’s leg, eyes still fixed on the road. “I understand the feeling of being uncomfortable in your own home, but it seems the degree of isolation you experience is far more distressing.” 

Shinji knew he shouldn’t feel a twinge of excitement in his chest with Kaworu’s hand on his thigh, with the way his words sounded melodic, but— 

“Y-You too, K-Kaworu?”

“Yes, I also fought with my parents growing up.”

He had to take his hand back to shift gears.

(It was slightly disappointing.)

“Oh. That sucks. I’m sorry.”

Shinji dipped his head, embarrassed.

“I suppose it was difficult for a while. However, I had a few friends who allowed me to stay with them, and eventually, the situation improved.” 

He wiped away moisture from his eyes, sniffing against a runny nose.

“I don’t see how that can happen with me. If anything, it seems like it’s getting worse.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed as they slowed to a stop at the traffic light. His eyes glanced over at Shinji to see him wipe his nose on his sleeve. “I know this can be trite and unhelpful, but most things do get better with time. It might take a while, but even if it’s simply finishing college and moving out and being financially independent, it may resolve on its own.”

Shinji’s voice shook when he said, “That’s so long from now.”

The light turned green, and Kaworu’s eyes turned back to the road.

“It may seem like that right now, but school does go by quickly, especially undergraduate.”

The younger boy slumped in his seat, feeling a distinct pang of hopelessness in his chest.

( _I’m not sure I can make it that long._ )

“Yeah. I guess.” His words sounded particularly miserable when accompanied by tiny sniffles. 

The rest of the car ride was silent after that.

It took a few more minutes, but Kaworu had finally gotten to the street of his apartment, which Shinji could recognize by the complex (which, to tell the truth, looked rather spooky at night). He found a space on the street and pulled into it was an ease that he’d never seen while trying to parallel park. He truly was a man of many talents. 

When he turned off the engine, Kaworu turned his attention to Shinji, who still looked rather distraught even after his words of encouragement.

“Hey,” he whispered, cupping Shinji’s cheek and using his thumb to brush away a few stray tears. “I promise it’ll be okay. Please don’t cry.”

The swelling in Shinji’s chest could only be relieved by pulling Kaworu into an embrace, one that was awkward over a gear shift and a parking brake, but an embrace nonetheless. Shinji couldn’t help but take a breath, inhaling all the smells that blended together and made Kaworu smell like Kaworu. Before they met, Shinji wouldn’t have guessed that the smell of a person could evoke such strong feelings—relief and comfort, among other things—but Kaworu’s smell was one of the most grounding things about him. Most of the time, he felt like a dream, but Kaworu was real when Shinji could sink his fingers into his wool peacoat and place his forehead against the crook of his neck and breathe his essence. It made Shinji feel a little creepy to think such a thing, but God, he just loved being so close to him. 

“I missed you,” Shinji murmured.

“I missed you, too. I hope you weren’t too lonely at home.”

“It’s fine now. It’s fine like this.”

Kaworu pulled away, giving him a smile to try to cheer him up. 

“It’ll get cold if we stay in the car. I don’t want you getting sick.”

Shinji returned the smile the best he could, though it was easier because he was once again reminded that he had someone to care about him. 

“Okay.” 

While the building wasn’t as intimidating as it had the last time he’d been there, the single street lamp illuminating the vines and leaves which crawled between the windows made it feel more like a haunted house than an apartment complex. The nervous air was gone though, and the elevator ride seemed almost half the time. Shinji could even count the number of doors before Kaworu’s (it was seven doors on the right side and six on the left). 

Shinji had never grown up with pets, but he had to admit that getting a warm greeting every time the door opened was sweet.

“Hello, Ramiel. Aw, do you remember Shinji?”

Ramiel cooed and brushed against Kaworu first and then took a good long time rubbing her face against Shinji’s pant leg. It was probably good that animals couldn’t speak English because it would be unfortunate if the cat said, “Oh, yeah, you’re the kid that jacked off on Dad’s bed.” He would have had to jump out the window right then. 

Shinji crouched down in the doorway and let her sniff his hand. She obliged for a few moments before giving him a generous head butt. 

“Ah, she likes you. But, you should let me shut the door before she makes a run for it.” Kaworu used his foot to gently shoo Ramiel away from his hand, which was Shinji’s cue to stand up and shuffle away. This was the first time that night that he felt awkward, like his body took up too much space in the already cramped apartment, like his body took up too much space in Kaworu’s presence.

The door shut. Shinji fixed his gaze on the cat finding a seat atop of a few papers that looked vaguely important instead of turning to face Kaworu.

“Sorry, it might be a bit messier than the last time you were here.”

What? Where? Shinji still felt like the place was impeccably clean for a grad student (not counting his bedroom, of course), save for the papers Ramiel had claimed and a few books that had been taken from their place on the bookshelf.

“Trust me, my dorm is so messy. You have no idea—”

He jumped when he felt cold hands slip from behind him and pull at his coat. At first, he wondered if Kaworu was trying to embrace him, but it became clear that he was just trying to take off his jacket for him. Shinji turned around quickly, stepping back so Kaworu was out of his range.

“Y-You don’t have to do that.”

The older man looked surprised at his reaction, maybe because he had grown used to how much Shinji lingered with any contact he gave him. He tried his best to hide his disappointment.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just going to hang it up for you.” Kaworu gestured to his own coat hung on the coat rack by the door. 

“Haha, i-it’s fine,” Shinji stuttered, “I can do it.”

( _I don’t want to bother you._ )

He made sure to avert his gaze when he took off his coat and brushed past him, embarrassment radiating from him. It was just like him to make a big deal out of absolutely nothing, he thought bitterly as he hung his worn out windbreaker next to his real-wool peacoat.

If Shinji’s sheepishness threw Kaworu off guard, he picked right back up, strolling into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator.

“Would you like anything to drink? Unfortunately, I don’t have much but water and milk.”

Shinji looked at the body peering into the door. It was hard not to admire his green mock-turtleneck, the kind that barely even covered the neck at all, just hinting at the turtleneck it could have been. He swore that he'd seen Kaworu in something like that once. Maybe he dreamed it. 

He smiled, “If only you had bottom shelf liquor. It’s my favorite.”

Kaworu didn’t pick up the sarcasm in his voice. He leaned back so his head peeked from around the refrigerator door. 

“I have gin, if that’s what you’re looking for.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh, Kaworu’s wide eyes surprisingly innocent for talking about giving an underaged kid booze.

“I was kidding.”

“Oh, I see.” Kaworu put his head back in the refrigerator, almost as if he was using the cool temperature to calm down his flush. Shinji took the opportunity to walk into the kitchen and stand next to him. 

“But, uh, I wouldn’t turn down a free drink, if you made one.” 

Once he shut the door and turned to Shinji, he had regained his composure. But, his smile was still lopsided when he said, “Well, if we’re going to drink, it’s probably better if we do it in the house.” As if Shinji was a little too excited about that, Kaworu added, “But just one drink.”

“Right.” 

(One drink? Who just has one drink?)

 

* * *

 

Of course, Kaworu would make cocktails. That’s just something he’d do, Shinji thought. 

When he thought of drinking, his mind immediately assumed taking shots with whatever he could steal from his dad until he got drunk and passed out. Apparently, Kaworu’s actions at that party really were out of the ordinary and not just an extension of habit, like Shinji’s had been.

The gin was in a fancy green bottle that said “Tanqueray,” and the mixer or whatever was something called “Vermouth,” which Shinji couldn’t even begin to guess what it tasted like. To be fair, nothing could be worse than the stuff his dad drank, so he put his trust in him, considering anything slightly palatable was an upgrade. But, he still found it amusing that Kaworu put effort into making drinks at all. Shinji watched intently as he combined the various ingredients (gin, that other stuff, something in an orange bottle, ice) in what looked similar to a beaker he had used in high school chemistry, mixed everything up, and used a tiny strainer to pour the concoction into chilled glasses. He added a lemon twist for garnish. _A lemon twist_. Holy shit.

When Kaworu handed him the glass, Shinji was at a loss for words, mostly because it was finally dawning on him just how extra Kaworu really was about everything. 

Fortunately, Kaworu broke the silence with a lighthearted, “Cheers.”

Bringing the drink to his lips, Shinji had to stop himself from gulping the whole thing down in one go.

“Whoa, this is awesome.” 

“It’s really quite average, but thank you.”

Shinji sat down at the counter while Kaworu stood next to him, propping himself up on his elbow.

“No, I don’t think you understand. I’ve been drinking stuff that tastes like rubbing alcohol since I was fourteen. This tastes like I just drank a flower or something.”

“I guess that’s one of the perks of being old: your drinks taste better.”

“Oh, you’re not old,” Shinji said between sips. “You’re only ten years older than me. That’s, like, the same as my mom and dad.”

This was something he had thought before but not vocalized to anyone, especially not Kaworu, and there was probably a reason for that. Kaworu kind of cringed, looking somewhere over Shinji’s shoulder and nursing his glass instead of responding. Shinji immediately realized how awkward that sounded and felt his entire body heat up with shame.

( _Oh my god. Oh my god. Why did I say that? Why did I say that? Why can’t I keep my damn mouth shut?_ )

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by—”

“Hmm, do you want to watch a movie or something? I was going to work on paperwork tonight, but seeing as that’s boring, and I’d rather do anything else…”

Shinji still felt shame, but he would rather pretend that hadn’t happened instead of making everything worse.

“Oh, y-yeah, that sounds good.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t own any movies...or a television, but I do subscribe to some streaming services that we can pull up on my computer.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Alright.”

Kaworu finished the last of his drink in a swallow. Shinji mirrored him, pretending like there was enough left in his glass to be considered a mouthful.

 

* * *

 

Shinji hadn’t been paying much attention to the movie. The smaller than desired screen of Kaworu’s laptop sat on the coffee table, papers pushed to the side and long forgotten. Shinji had never really been much of a movie person, instead preferring music as his primary mode of escapism. To be fair, Kaworu probably wasn’t really into movies either, considering all of his bookshelves were actually full of books instead of DVDs.

But, besides that, there was something inherently distracting about sitting next to Kaworu on the couch. He was reminded of the party, of the two of them lounging together, of how perfect the other man seemed no matter the situation—well, how he had seemed before their night together since everything after that had shattered most of that illusion.

Kaworu finally noticed Shinji’s gaze and turned to offer a smile, eyes shutting lazily, lips curling.

“What is it?” 

Shinji tried his best to smile back, slightly embarrassed but also not at all embarrassed because he wanted such undivided attention.

“Uh, sorry. I just wanted to say, um, thank you, I guess.” He scratched his cheek nervously.

“Hm? For what?” A cock of the head. Endearing as always.

Where to start? Thank you for giving him the light of day? Thank you for forgiving all the fucking awkward things he did and said? Thank you for not asking him to leave because really this whole situation was completely ridiculous, what with all the crying, and the coat rack, and the cocktails, and the Freudian slip that wasn’t a slip much at all, and was more just plain Freudian? 

Shinji must have looked like a deer in the headlights because Kaworu’s smile had melted into something more like confusion than compassionate interest.

“Just, you’re—uh, well—you haven’t kicked me out yet, and just in general, you’re always so kind to me, so there’s that.” Shinji ended his jumbled sentence by laughing nervously.

The words didn’t sound sad coming out of his mouth, but Kaworu couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity despite himself. Of course, this wasn’t the ideal situation, and it was difficult for the both of them to act composed, but Kaworu was realizing that Shinji was probably beating himself up over every single misstep and awkward silence, and damn, he should really be trying harder not to let on that he was uncomfortable because it was just making Shinji feel worse about himself.

As strange as it seemed, Kaworu was getting a better grasp of the root of his inferiority complex in these more intimate settings. This boy didn’t deserve the treatment he often received.

(No wonder he felt undeserving of kindness and forgiveness when the people in his life constantly undermined and belittled his experience.)

“You deserve to be treated kindly.” 

If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought he saw Shinji flinch. That caused Kaworu to feel worse because it just reaffirmed that Shinji believed himself to be unworthy of the affection he showed him.

Before he realized what exactly he was doing, Kaworu placed his fingers on the boy’s chin and leaned down to allow their lips to meet.

That probably wasn't the best solution, but it probably wasn’t the worst either. Or maybe it was. Kaworu had lost track of such things a while ago.

Shinji thought he might just burst into tears. 

(He still tasted like lemons and Tanqueray.)

He turned in a way so that he could run his fingers through Kaworu’s hair, so that he could pull him closer and deepen their kiss.

(Was using physical affection as a way to ignore his emotions a good thing? Probably not, but it wasn’t like he cared enough to stop. In fact, why not keep going? Being turned on was a surprisingly good anesthetic. It was better than feeling sad, better than feeling like a complete fuck up. At least physical affection was easy to categorize, easy to recognize, easy to ask for. He would take a tongue shoved down his throat over pitying glances any day of the week.)

Shinji turned to put his knee on the couch and then swing his other leg over Kaworu’s lap. He placed his hands on either side of the Kaworu’s cheeks as he opened his mouth for the other man. Kaworu was mildly shocked at how bold Shinji had become after just seconds ago being a stuttering mess, but Shinji wasn’t backing off, and Kaworu always had a difficult time refusing the boy. 

Despite his sudden eagerness, Shinji was less desperate than usual. He didn’t feel the need to cast all abandon to the wind like all the other times they had kissed. However, now, he was a bit more forceful, pushing against Kaworu so his head sank into the back of the couch. Shinji’s tongue felt soft against his, tasted like liquor and citrus.

It was nice, but it was also clearly an intentional redirection of the conversation.

When they broke for air, their heavy breaths hung between them. They held each other’s gazes, sparkling red and dampened blue. 

Kaworu was the first to speak up.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. You can communicate yourself to me without—”

“But, I want to.”

“Shinji, I can see there’s more to this than just what you say—”

“You don’t have to analyze me,” he mumbled. “I’m on break, remember?” 

“I’m not trying to analyze you, Shinji. I want us to be completely honest with each other.” 

“I am being honest with you. This is what I want.”

“I’m not sure I understand—”

“Kaworu, I want to kiss you. I always want to kiss you.”

Shinji took advantage of Kaworu’s momentary surprise by planting another kiss on his mouth. Then, he pulled away again, his eyes even more piercing than the last time.

“I want to do everything with you.”

Kaworu wasn’t sure if he had ever heard Shinji sound so intense. Usually, his unsure, naive stuttering when he was forced to say dirty things was what made Kaworu’s stomach flip, but this sternness also caused a familiar tightness deep in his core.

Shinji peppered kisses along Kaworu’s jaw line, let his tongue trail up to his earlobe. His skin had a slightly salty taste, in a different way than the drinks, but Shinji didn’t care about anything other than forcing Kaworu to make those little noises, to make him breathe heavier.

“Where do you think this lust comes from?” Kaworu asked between pants.

Shinji made a noise that kind of sounded like ‘I don’t know,’ but it was muffled by the kisses that trailed down neck.

“I never expected you to be so forward,” he chuckled. “You always surprise me.” 

His hands lightly slipped down to the back of Kaworu’s neck, fingers grazing down until they rested on his collarbone. Shinji’s kisses were so soft, coaxing Kaworu’s chin upward to give him access to more sensitive skin. 

It seemed to work as Kaworu let out a sharp gasp, almost causing Shinji to pull away in surprise, but not quite. Instead, he explored the area more, finding that the places he responded most corresponded to a certain linear area, much like if Shinji’s kisses had been a choker around his neck.

Shinji often found him to be adorable, but something about his little noises, so unlike his normal air of composure, had him saying it out loud.

“You’re so cute, Kaworu,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along the latitude of his neck. “Really cute.”

He peaked at the boy out of one eye. Kaworu felt it strange that Shinji could find anything cute when Shinji’s head was nestled against his neck, eyes buried in his skin. At that moment, he pulled away, doing his best to meet his gaze with confidence.

“Will you let me?”

Kaworu’s eyes opened, turning from tiny slits to wide dinner plates that Shinji had only seen in a different Kaworu. 

“Huh?”

Before he could get any actual words out, Shinji had crawled down so he was no longer straddling him. Instead, they had switched roles, Shinji now between Kaworu’s legs.

It was as though his thin frame cracked, his shoulders slumping into the smooth leatherette against in his back, his neck rolling backward with a sharp inhale. The teeth sinking into his palm would certainly keep him quiet. Shinji nuzzled his face softly against the rough material of his pants, fingers trying their best to gently release what corduroy and cotton sought to protect.

He could feel the heat radiating off Kaworu’s fragile veins, pulsing with new energy in this sober moment of pleasure. When this younger man was pawing at his trousers with smitten eyes, Kaworu felt nervous again, like it was the back of the school during 11th grade break, or in his own office, during work. What was that inexplicable jolt running down his back when Shinji wiggled his cold fingers under Kaworu’s tucked button down and grasped at some flesh that Kaworu himself didn’t recognize until it was blessed with such a desperate touch. Shinji moaned when Kaworu’s hips jumped back, triggered by a shiver crawling up his back.

“We should—hmmm. Mmm.”

Shinji’s wide, bleary eyes had Kaworu’s breath catching in his throat, among other things.

“Please. Please let me do this.”

Kaworu’s opening words of argument were swallowed by the cool air touching his member so suddenly. 

“Hey, sto—” Kaworu’s words trailed off as the warm embrace of Shinji’s hand around his dick forced him into silence. 

“You’re already half-hard.” 

“...” 

“Do you like me?”

“A-Ah...I, hm, of course, I like you, Shinji. Hah…” 

Shinji gaze shifted between Kaworu’s reactions and examining him in plain view.

“That’s...really hot.”

“Shinji, please be more gentle with me.”

“I never saw another one up close.” 

“Don’t stare so intently…”

“Your shy act is total bullshit.”

“What?” 

Shinji’s expression was unreadable for once in his life, caught in a mix of incredulous amusement.

“Do you get off to this kind of thing? Am I your ‘type’?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shinji.”

He looked like he was holding back a laugh. Since when had he been the one to figure it all out?

“If I do this will you stay with me? I can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you, Kaworu. I hate it.” 

“Shinji, you’re not making any sense...ah...”

Shinji’s immediate reaction was to go in with enthusiasm, but he made the rookie mistake of pulling his back forward to penetrate his face, which only made it so he couldn’t breathe at all. He pulled back, regaining his composure with a few breaths before taking him in his mouth again, just not overly vigorous as he had before.

(His sloppiness, or more likely his inexperience, was as amusing as it was exciting. Maybe Shinji _was_ his type. He’d never thought about it before.)

As it was, Kaworu would probably be far too gracious to ask to have his dick sucked and would rather just let it happen. He could pretend like this alleviated him of the responsibility for the actions of others, even if he was grasping at Shinji’s cute brown hair and searching for the proper reaction (resulting in a confused, open-mouthed expression that he had seen while in his intoxicated state some nights before).

He was not good, but he wasn’t bad either. It was more like he was trying really hard to please him, and the effort was endearing. Maybe he was pulling from his past experiences—Kaworu couldn’t be sure. But, there was a sort of familiar methodology in the way he licked up his length and cupped his hand underneath him, gently fondling him. His other hand wrapped around his dick, the subtle movements of his fingers blending together with the sensation caused by the fleeting kisses that he gave to the tip.

Kaworu bit his lip, barely holding back a stunted groan. Lithe fingers trailed behind Shinji’s ear, pushing back hair as he did so. The younger boy squeaked, eyes flicking up and meeting Kaworu’s red eyes as if the contact had broken some sort of spell.

Pulling away just enough so he could speak but still close enough that his breath felt warm on his skin, Shinji muttered, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Kaworu thought, ( _Neither do I_ ), but they were clearly not talking about the same thing. 

“You’re fine, Shinji.” 

(This wasn’t really fine, but with the shocks that ran up his spine, the sharp flares of pleasure that made his thighs shake, the aching in his chest where his heart should have been, Kaworu couldn’t find it in him to refuse. He was weak, especially when it came to the boy on his knees in front of him. If it didn’t feel so good, he might have had half the decency to be ashamed.)

He brushed his cheek against his shaft, much like Kaworu had done to him in Asuka’s bedroom. Shinji did his best not to acknowledge that his cheek was now wet. 

“You’re making a really cute face right now," Shinji said.

“Am I?” The words came out between fluttering breaths, an eye squinting shut at the sensation he evoked in him.

“You’re so cute. I hope I’m making you feel good.”

“Don’t worry, you are—”

Kaworu’s response was cut off by an involuntary buck of the hips as Shinji’s mouth was on him again. It seemed he hadn’t been expecting it because the boy sputtered, nails digging into corduroy and tiny tears forming in the corner of his eyes. But, that wasn’t enough to have Shinji give up—in fact, he took his cock almost as deep as he accidentally had the last time, his tongue pushing up against him. Shinji made tiny noises, maybe out of discomfort, maybe out of excitement, but regardless of the cause, it was so sweet, so endearing. It probably shouldn’t have been this enjoyable to turn the image of Shinji he had formed in his mind upside down. 

( _Is it fun to ruin this boy—to be the one to dirty him?_ )

Did that thought send him over the edge? He didn’t even have the time to warn Shinji before he came. He cried out but kept his eyes from clenching shut so he could see the wide-eyed look of surprise, the recoil from being violated and sullied in a different sort of way.

Shinji jerked away, hands slapped against his mouth as he choked on the invading (and much less pleasant when sober) fluid.

(Even in the afterglow of orgasm, Kaworu couldn’t help but be disgusted at his own basal desires. He couldn’t believe he found gratification in his semen running down Shinji’s small hands and small wrists because he couldn’t keep it down, couldn’t stop his coughing from forcing it out his mouth.) 

“I’m so sorry, Shinji,” he said when leaning forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I got a bit carried away.” 

Shinji’s eyes softened, as if to silently apologize for his state of disarray, before standing up and finding his way into the kitchen. He spit into the sink, choking against air and saliva, among other things. For a moment, he acknowledged how disgusting his hands and arms had become before running them under the coldest water he could get out of the tap.

Before long, a pair arms were around his waist, a chin propped on his head. Shinji noted that his pants had been zipped back up.

“I’m sorry about that,” he repeated. Shinji turned off the water. “I hope it wasn’t too unpleasant for you.”

Shinji twisted around so that he could face Kaworu, his arms still around his waist, loosely embracing him.

“N-No, it’s fine.” His smile looked a bit like a wince. “I guess, a warning would have have been nice, but it’s not that big of a deal.” He said this like his face wasn’t flushing, like he wasn’t looking down in embarrassment.

Kaworu leaned down so he could catch Shinji’s gaze.

“Hey. It’s okay.” Neither of them were really sure what he was talking about, especially since there was very little about their existence together that was actually okay. “You’re a very sweet boy. I appreciate that you’d try new things for my sake.” 

Shinji peaked at Kaworu through brown bangs, heart leaping at the softness of his tone.

“I-I wasn’t lying when I said I want to do everything with you.”

He wouldn’t allow himself to admit out loud that he wanted the same. To be fair, many of Kaworu’s desires were things he would rather not admit out loud.

Their lips met, pushing Shinji softly against sink embedded in the counter.

(Soft lips that tasted like him—so delicious—he could eat him right up.)

When they separated, Kaworu couldn’t help but whisper a repeated sentiment.

“You’re such a sweet boy.”

The happiness in Shinji’s eyes probably shouldn’t have made his heart leap, but it still fluttered in his chest. In the grand scheme of things, he probably shouldn’t have worried too much about his uncouth desires considering everything was already fucked up anyway.

 


End file.
